


To Save a World

by RyuuSiren7



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: (No one really cares about what Kawahira thinks), (as much), Angst with a Happy Ending, Author likes comments, Author will reply in comments, BAMF Byakuran, BAMF main characters, Ch. 1 & 2: Squalo, Ch. 10: Vongola Decimo, Ch. 3 & 4: Byakuran, Ch. 5 & 6 Xanxus, Ch. 7 & 8 Hayato Gokudera, Ch. 9: Vongola Tenth Generation, Character Death, Character Study, Except Kawahira, Fix-it!, Gen, Major character introspection, Most of the time, No one cares about time travel ramifications, OP Gokudera, Obsessive and Possesive Byakuran, Really OP Gokudera, Shoichi is a major influence to both Byakuran and author, Squalo is BAMF!, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Warnings for blood death and gore, We have to time travel to fix them, but then it doesn't, everything sucks, please comment, seriously, tagging is addicting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuSiren7/pseuds/RyuuSiren7
Summary: Their world had ended. Their families were gone, lost to tragedy and the cruel inevitability of death. They were the only one left. Fact. Unfortunately for that fact, nothing can stand up to their Dying Will to save their family, even if it means reversing time itself. (Or, the Last One Standing AU collection where no one cares about the possible ramifications of time travel.)





	1. Requiem Rain, Part One

**Author's Note:**

> He would save his shitty boss - all of Varia, hell all of Vongola (because no matter what, the Varia is - was - loyal, loyal to their Famiglia, their family, those that earned their respect… that naive brat, Tsunayoshi…)-
> 
> For nothing can stop the requiem rain, crying for its fallen fellows and slaughtering the enemy, crashing over them and pulling them down into the inky blue depths…
> 
> With his dying will, he'd save his world...
> 
> Voi.

He was too late.

He had sent Dino ahead with Tsunayoshi and Hibari, staying behind to stand against Kikyo and Zakuro himself. Kikyo had vanished near the start of the battle, likely off to follow Byakuran's orders like the lapdogs the Funeral Wreaths were (albeit violent, skilled lapdogs…), leaving the Storm Wreath to face Squalo by himself. Squalo had nearly been defeated in an instant, almost losing his prosthetic sword hand to the other's skill and raging, red _red **red**_ storm flames.

However, he wasn't the Varia and resistance's strategic commander for nothing. While working with the naive brat, they had developed a new technique, a perfect mix of the Shigure Soen Ryu and Squalo styles. The crimson haired storm had been surprised, off balance for just half a second-

and that's all Squalo had needed.

The inverted rain had _moved_ , seeming to vanish and reappear in a flash in front of the other, his flames so unlike the relaxed, calming aura of the typical rain, instead broiling and crashing with promises of tsunamis and tragedy, of drowning and death, as his sword lit up in bright, brilliant blue and doused the flames of the storm for good.

But none of it mattered because-

He.

Was.

Too.

_Late._

* * *

The grass was stained red.

Corpses littered the forest floor, forever faceless soldiers of both the Millefiore and Vongola, covering every inch of earth like bizarre plants, mangled limbs sticking out at odd angles, begging for the healing light of a sun that would never reach them. Lifeblood, still warm and blindingly, brilliantly red, seeped into the grass, killing the actual plants and dying their remains in crimson and, in time, a copper brown not dissimilar to the ground into which the precious liquid seeped. Those few plants that survived would forever have traces of red in their trunks and leaves, eternal living reminders of the bodies which nourished them and the lives that were lost.

A glorious feast for the scavengers that circled above, their squawks and shrill cries eerily reminiscent of the tragedy that had happened just an hour or so before.

Squalo stumbled through the carnage, his mind numb as he walked, ignorant and uncaring of the bodies he trampled over and tripped on in his single-minded determination.

"VOOOIIIIIIIII! Where the hell are you, you shitty boss? Bel? Luss? Hell, Levi? I swear to God, if you're dead, _I'm going to kill_ -" Squalo stopped, unable to move as he heard something crunch beneath his boots, not the snapping of bones, but the shatter of glass that he had heard only a couple times before. Looking down, Squalo moved slowly, staring at the black rims and tinted, shattered lenses that lied beneath his boot.

_Lussuria's sunglasses._

The Rain tore through the bodies littering the field as thunder crashed in the distance, not stopping until he caught sight of that familiar, electric green hair near the edge of the clearing. Squalo kneeled next to his fallen teammate, hearing his heart hammering in his chest as he took in the blood stains trailing down the Sun's mouth, the red that stained his precious clothes in various places, and the bullet holes that had caused them. The Sun's expression was annoyed, pained - it didn't suit him, their bright, flamboyant sun. (It never had.)

The silverette, quiet for once, wiped the crimson liquid from his brother in all but blood's face as best he could, lifting the other's body gently  _(as gently as someone like him, could)_ as he continued onward, searching for the rest of his broken family - _because they were more than that, more than just a Famiglia_ \- his eyes seemingly blank, if one ignored the roaring waves that crashed just behind them.

"Don't think I'm doing this because I want to, Voi! I bet you'd come back just to haunt me if I left you there, Luss, because it wasn't fabulous enough to your liking, am I right?" the loudest member of the mafia rambled as he trudged through the forest-turned-graveyard, black boots squelching in the coppery red mud and slipping slightly in the somehow also sticky blood.

Finally, he reached the main clearing, and Squalo's world ended.

There, in the center, lied Tsunayoshi, seemingly embracing Byakuran in a cruel stroke of irony, each with their fist through the other's heart.

Squalo could see - hell, he could practically smell - the Vongola brat's tears from here. He always had been too soft ( _too soft for this life, for the mafia, those beautiful, vast Sky flames forever extinguished by the cruelness ever-present in the dregs of humanity, in the Underworld that was never meant to touch the sky)._

Nearer, and even more heartbreaking, was **_his Sky._** Xanxus's lips were twisted in that oh so common, furious, pained snarl that screamed, _roared_ , of loss, of pain and power and that burning, searing determination that had made him follow his shitty boss in the first place, _the best damn Sky he could ever ask for_ -

Empty, now. The once glaring eyes staring blankly at the broiling, storming, _wrathful_ sky that they had emulated so well.

Squalo fell to his knees, hardly conscious of gently laying down Lussuria, his once beaming and now dull Sun next to his Sky that could only ever be calm in death. The mud squelched and stuck to his knees as the Varia Rain rested his hand over the hole in Xanxus' chest, as though he could seal it closed himself, as if he was a Sun that could heal and bring back the dead, rather than the Rain that washed away the aftermath. He didn't close the dim, crimson eyes, instead leaving them frozen up at the sky, staring defiantly to the very end. It would be a disservice to the memory of his boss to close them, as though the other had shut his eyes in fear, in _acceptance_ , of the end.

Hours later, after the cold rain had seeped into his aching bones and the saturated ground finally stained his pants a light, coppery red from the mixture of blood and clear water that washed the crimson from the corpses, Squalo stood up, heading back into the battlefield. He found Levi next, near to his boss even in death. The silverette lifted the much taller man with ease, lying the Thunder guardian at the feet of his Sky, where he belonged - no matter how much the entire Varia had sneered and needled him for it.

Mammon was long dead, killed by Byakuran for the power of the Tri-Ni-Sette and the power the Arcobaleno wielded. That left their youngest members, Belphegor and Fran, still just a child in comparison to the rest of them.

They were farthest from the rest, having fallen sooner despite their genius and ferociousness and the sheer _fearlessness_ that made them Varia Quality. Fran was curled up at the base of a tree, his face painted with unfamiliar grief. Bel was in front, obviously having fallen trying to protect his "Frog," his little Varia brother. In the distance, Squalo spied the unmistakable indigo trail of Mukuro's hair. The mist had likely gotten distracted trying to save his apprentice and ally, and been struck down in that instant.

Two more bodies joined Xanxus's as Squalo laid down his quiet, still Storm and faded Mist.

He hesitated.

Turning to the center of the field, Squalo trudged forward again, gently, _oh so carefully_ , lifting the innocent young Sky off of the corrupted ocean that had stolen the life and love from his eyes. Several yards from Xanxus, Squalo lied down Tsunayoshi, letting the last generation of Vongola rest together. He went out, finding each of Tsuna's guardians and lying them down, next to their fallen sky.

Mukuro, who had fallen trying to save one of his so-called "pawns," his friend and apprentice.

Chrome, her sole eye wide and empty, staring forever into empty space as she lay with her fingers curled tight around her trident, the last thing that had connected her to her twin Mist before her life, too, was cruelly cut short.

The naive brat, Takeshi, his swords littering the ground around him, almost as plentiful as the Millefiore bodies surrounding him. A single bullet hole in his forehead. _Damn snipers._

Ryohei, too loud and too kind and too brave and _too, too bright_ , dead in a protective embrace, covering the body of Tsunayoshi's lightning guardian, the small child soaked in a red that should never have touched his black-and-white cow ensemble, as well as the Chinese girl, Fon's apprentice, better suited to the bright and lucky shades of crimson than the copper of blood.

Hibari, the seemingly undefeatable cloud, lied on his back, killed by a lucky scratch from a poisoned blade. Bianchi and Dino _(his oldest friend, his confidante, his childhood brother in arms that had stuck with him through everything, had saved his life-)_ were both nearby, having fought to the death to protect the fallen Skylark. He brought all three of them back.

Gokudera - or what was left of him. It had taken Squalo the longest to find the Storm guardian, _likely because of how little was left to be found._ It was evident that by the time Gokudera had died, Tsuna already had or was well on his way, because the bomber had shown no restraint, blowing himself up and taking out more than 40 of the Millefiore with him in that one move.

Sapped of what little strength he'd had to begin with, Squalo collapsed next to the cold body of his boss, feeling his eyes slip closed and bone-deep exhaustion settle in, his breath shuddering in his chest as he hacked and shivered, teeth clacking from the cold of night and the liquid that had soaked through his clothes. He was tired, _so tired_ , his family dead, his Famiglia gone, and-

Squalo's eyes snapped open.

_If a machine could bring people forward in time, why couldn't it send **him** back?_

* * *

 

Squalo wasn't a mechanics prodigy like Spanner or Shoichi. Hell, he wasn't even a genius like Gokudera or Belphegor.

But still.

He was _Superbi Squalo._ Sword Emperor, Varia Rain, boss candidate, tactical commander for both the Varia and, after Tsunayoshi's death, the Vongola and allied forces in their entireties. He grinned as a whirring sound staggered into being, lights flickering and smoke billowing as time ripped apart and permitted him entry.

He was the Requiem Rain, and with his dying will, _he would save his world._

 

 


	2. Requiem Rain, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His world was over.
> 
> Was.
> 
> Not even time had stopped the requiem rain, unable to halt its drenching, overpowering onslaught. But compared to the ocean sky, even the furious rain was nothing.
> 
> And so, the requiem rain recruited the tangible mist, and, with the weight of their skies, their entire worlds, on their shoulders, they'll slaughter anything and anyone that threatens what they believe in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT A companion story to this has been published, called "As Worlds Spin," that features what could have beens, alternate endings, and scenes that just didn't fit in this one. Because this chapter killed me. So, if you want a happier ending, go check that out!

_"The things I cut with this sword_

_Aren't loneliness or emptiness._

_For those I believe in,_

_There is a given destiny for them._

_Vooooiiiiiiii!_

_Break it, break it, I'll always push on forward._

_There's no reason to stop._

_Beat it, beat it, everything is like instinct._

_I'll surpass myself."_

-BREAK OUT (Squalo's Theme Song)

* * *

 Squalo woke up to the patter of rain on his face.

The sword emperor pushed himself up, gritting his teeth as his bones creaked and entire body protested the movement, the dried blood still coating his stiff, damp clothes and causing them to crackle with each breath. Clambering to his feet, Squalo used his sword (the least bloody part of him, _how ironic was that_ ) as a support, surveying his surroundings. The area around him was all forest - evidently, the building the time machine was in had yet to be built.

A good sign.

Suddenly, Squalo froze-

he had been so focused on getting to the past, he had never thought about what to do once he got there.

How was he supposed to beat Byakuran - even a lesser powered version - on his own?

_Shit._

* * *

The answer occurred to the Varia Rain as he was fleeing from the Millefiore guards that had caught him spying.

_I really wish I had a Mist right now._

He ducked under a branch and picked up speed, pebbles clattering as dirt gave way and he slid effortlessly down a hill, continuing the pondering his idle thought had triggered. He couldn't go to the Varia - at this point, Xanxus' retrieval from the ice was still fairly recent, and the entire assassination squad was even more trigger happy than usual in defense of their long-awaited Sky. Even if they believed him, they would barge in with weapons blazing and, as much as Squalo hated to admit it, dealing with Byakuran required a subtler touch (though a no less cruel one). Besides, Mammon, despite being an Arcobaleno, was not the most powerful Mist.

That was Rokudo Mukuro.

The cries of the guards were faint in the distance, now, unable to keep up with the highly experienced assassin as he ran, using all obstacles in his way as stepping stones instead. Fallen trunks gave him leverage to push farther ahead in his jumps, and tangled vines were used as push off points from above the ground or handholds to swing himself faster.

Finally, after another hour of running (because at this point, too much was riding on him to be careless), the rain slowed to a stop in a dense patch of trees. The bark under his skin was rough as he gripped it tightly, scaling the tallest as high as the branches could safely support him and lying there, staring up at the sky.

And so, the greatest mafia tactician that had ever lived planned. How do you convince someone who wants to destroy the mafia to _save it_? Illusionists were too tricky, especially one of the damn pineapple's caliber. There was no way Squalo - whose every action and very flames raged and broiled with pure resolve and _intent_ \- could fool him. At this point, Rokudo had been half of Tsunayoshi's mist set for nearly two years, which meant that he had at least partly harmonized.

On the other hand, the genocidal Mist's actual body was still in Vendicare.

Theoretically, he could use Chrome as a conduit, but Squalo had seen the difference with his own eyes, and handicaps could not be afforded. Taking out his phone - which had somehow survived the battle and following events - Squalo dialed the number he had hoped to never call again.

"Voi! Care to make a deal?"

* * *

When the ancient phone in his office rang, Bermuda could only blink in disbelief. No one called the Vendice. _N_ o _one. Ever._ Jager looked up from where he was flipping through old record in the corner, looking at his boss questioningly. Bermuda only nodded, signalling for Jager to answer. The voice that crackled through the old, black spin-phone was quieter and inexplicably older than he had ever heard it, but still unmistakably that of the loudest mafia member's.

"Voi! Care to make a deal?"

Bermuda felt himself become more and more intrigued as the Sword Emperor continued, spinning a tale of a future drenched in red, of the mafia torn apart and ripped at the seams, of a world that was out of control up until the very moment it ended, not in fire, but in rain and rivers of blood. Eventually, Squalo Superbia finished his tale, and the Vindice waited for him to get to the reason for the call - and surely it wasn't just to inform them of time travel and apocalyptic futures.

"You give me Rokudo Mukuro, and promise his freedom for the rest of his life, and we'll eliminate Byakuran ourselves."

Bermuda and Jager shared a look. Mukuro Rokudo's body was required to trap Daemon, but-

Surely, there had been a reason for them to not get involved in the bloodiest war of mafia history. Which meant one of two things: either Checkerface had been involved, or… _Byakuran_ had somehow forced them to stay out of it.

Neither option sat well with the Vendice.

"You have yourself a deal, Requiem Rain."

* * *

_In reality, the Vendice of the future were just so done dealing with the mafia's shit that they didn't bother, hoping the entire mafia would be destroyed and they could take a vacation from idiots._

_Squalo left that out._

* * *

The first thing Mukuro saw when he woke up was the sky. He stared, unblinkingly, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes at most. The scent of fresh grass after rain hung in the air, and when he curled his fingers, they scraped earth and he could feel the dirt push up against his hands, the scratchy blades of grass crumpling beneath his palm.

"Voi! You gonna talk or not, Mist? You better not be broken after the trade I made to get you!" A foot hit his side - not lightly, but not enough to send him rolling. Heterochromatic eyes met grey-tinted green, and Mukuro started to laugh.

"VOI! Listen up, Mist scum! Yes, I'm from the ten years later future. No, it's not from the bazooka." Mukuro fell silent, eying the caked blood that still remained, and the permanent copper stained into the uniform. "Here's the deal. Everyone's dead, including Vongola, Varia, you, your Mist twin, Tsunayoshi, and everyone else you know... Save the Vendice trash."

Mukuro was deadly serious now, sitting up even though his atrophied muscles protested the movement, reinforcing himself with illusions as he stood. "What does this have to do with me?" Crimson and deep indigo flashed, while the Varia rain just stared at him coolly.

"You trying to tell me you're not harmonized with them? Voi! I can feel Tsunayoshi's flames still lingering on yours." True enough, Mukuro could feel the brilliant, searing Sky, flames pressed against his own cool Mist, wrapped in a warm, comforting embrace.

"Here's the deal, Mist trash. You're the best damn illusionist not on the side of Byakuran that I know of, as much as I hate to admit it. I made a deal with the Vindice - you're free, permanently, so long as you help me kill the Gesso heir. I'll slice them up with or without you, trash, so don't think it won't happen just because of you. Are you in?"

A dark, sinister smirk curled along the Mist's lips, and dual colored fire blazed in his eyes as his illusions settled in, him standing tall on his own two feet for the first time in years.

"A chance to destroy mafia _scum_? Of course."

And so the devil made a deal.

_(No one was quite sure who the devil was.)_

* * *

They attacked during a thunderstorm.

Mukuro's illusions shielded them from the rain and allowed them to see clearly despite the overcast sky and drenching downfall. The heavy rain had made a fog roll in from the nearby lake, and it was dark enough that no one (else) could see past their arm.

They were in their elements.

Shadowy vapors of predators and monsters swirled in the mist, attacking any and all Millefiore soldiers with extreme prejudice, leaving their mangled and bloody corpses, stretching futilely towards their sky, before the mist swallowed them up for good. The rain blinded the White Spells, lying to them that no one was there, the pinging droplets echoing, surrounding them and tricking their ears. Even scent was washed away by the water.

With Mukuro's illusions also cloaking them, making them fully invisible, they sliced through everyone in their path, making their way to the Gesso boss' bedroom, and slipping inside, blades drawn in order to finish what would now never start.

Byakuran was waiting for them.

Dark, corrupted Sky flames, tinted with insanity, burned through Mukuro's illusions, lashing out at the two attackers. Mukuro retaliated with his own fire, eye flickering rapidly through the different paths as he threw everything he had at the other, distracting the white haired mafia boss.

Byakuran made a fatal mistake.

In the brief instant he had seen the two before they attacked, and from the taste and feel of the blistering flames, he had made the - correct - assumption that the two fighting against him were Rokudo Mukuro and Superbi Squalo, and adjusted accordingly.

His fatal mistake was not noticing it was _ten years older_ Squalo Superbi, and thus deeming Mukuro Rokudo the greater threat.

Squalo sliced through the flames hurled his way, surging forward with all the strength of a tsunami, quicksilver movements as he seemingly flowed through the other's attacks. As his sword met flesh, sliding through the other's chest to the hilt, Byakuran had only a moment to see the much older than expected face, seemingly set in stone as two grey-green eyes glared at him.

_(Oh. Guess I succeeded, then.)_

* * *

The Mist and Rain stood in front of the burning building, watching the flames lick the sky as they resisted the rain and were fueled by the wind.

"Oi, Mist trash… you know what to do next, right?"

Mukuro's fingers clenched the trident, the metal slick and cool beneath his heated touch. "Kufufufu, of course… farewell, Varia Rain."

* * *

When the police found the scene the next day, the only recoverable body was that of a man with long, silver hair and a twisted smile upon his face as the rain sang a requiem around him.

They couldn't find any wounds, despite the blood soaked clothes.

* * *

_"A lump of hate squirms in the night._

_Voices whisper a song of sadness._

_There is no end to the fight._

_If I stop I will not live on._

_The distant memory of tomorrow… Life that flows out onto the battlefield._

_The distant oath of yesterday… Washed away by a requiem of rain._

_The distant memory of tomorrow… Your wrath is the same as pride._

_The distant oath of yesterday… I decided to follow you."_

\- Chinkonka no Ame (Requiem of Rain)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author begs for reviews.


	3. Ocean Sky, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gravestone seemed to shine with an internal light as the morning sun rose behind it, so bright in Japan, casting shadows and halos alike. There was no sign of flowers or visitors, just another forgotten soul among countless others.
> 
> Byakuran was not pleased.
> 
> The Sky was gone, and so the Ocean would go on isolated forever, untouchable and unconquerable. That…
> 
> That just wouldn't do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byakuran is a major pain to write. Never again. This arc is it. I swear. (It's probably not.)  
> Please review. The author needs inspiration.

* * *

* * *

His world ended before it even began.

In every _single_ world Byakuran could remember (and there were many), there had always been one main constant - his rival, his obsession, his enemy, his victim, his Tri-Ni-Sett brother - Tsunayoshi.

Until now.

The young man, barely 17, kneeled in front of the grave, a bouquet of white orchids adorning the soft, otherwise undisturbed soil in front of the stone.

_Here lies Sawada Tsunayoshi,_

_Beloved son as kind as the sky is vast._

_Seven years old._

It took some digging, but Byakuran had discovered the cause of the other Sky's death. It was long before Reborn ever came to train Tsunayoshi, back when he was No-good Tsuna, an innocent civilian. It had been an accident, supposedly.

Some of the neighborhood kids were "roughhousing" with the young brunette, "play-fighting" with him. Unfortunately, one of them pushed a bit too far, and poor, young, _innocent_ Tsuna had tripped, hitting his head and falling into the river. The case was declared a tragic accident, and no one was punished.

At all.

It didn't matter that his body showed signs of pre-mortem bruising, cuts, of rope burns and broken bones. It didn't matter that none of the children knew who the one that pushed Tsuna was. It _didn't matter_ that, when they found the child's body, his wrists had still been tied together with fraying ropes. As far as even the mafia was concerned, it had been a tragic accident. In any other situation, he'd be impressed (amused) with the amount of Mist flames necessary for such a feat. But not now.

Massimo was the one that was meant to drown. Not Tsunayoshi. _Not Tsuna._

It wasn't _fair_ that he didn't get to meet _his_ Tsunayoshi when all of his other selves did. Only the Ocean was allowed to swallow up, overcome and outlast, the limitless Sky. They were always meant to touch at least once, that blurred line in the distant horizon.

And yet Byakuran stood before the grave of a child who he would never meet, and felt something within him break. Now what? Tsunayoshi had always been there, his opposing force of equal and opposite power. Without him, what was the point of world domination, of, of _anything_? There was no satisfaction in an empty victory.

Suddenly, he grinned, white hair tinted orange in the light of the rising sun, his amethyst eyes reflecting the sun's rays like light upon water. The tide is a constant thing, spending eternity under the grasp of the sky, rolling forward and back with no influence but the ever more distant moon.

Byakuran snickered as he contemplated. The moon in this metaphor was not time. It was insanity, obsession and possession mixed together with a manic haze that settled over him and made him crave the feeling of blood staining his hands and power in his grasp.

And so, Byakuran meddled with time the way he had always intended to - the Tri-Ni-Sett.

* * *

It was almost - _almost_ \- a disappointment, what with how easy it was to gather all three pieces of the fabled, supposedly protected Tri-Ni-Sett without Tsunayoshi standing in his way. He already had the Mare Ring, given to him by the Cervello (and why something that was named after the sea had wings, Byakuran would never understand.

The contradiction suited him well, though.)

The Vongola Ring was easier to gain that it had been in any other life. All he had to do was sneak into the Vongola Headquarters. Byakuran spread his wings, black at the moment, as they lifted him up to the top story easily. Unlike other lives, these wings were not pure flames, nor did he need the support of one of his ghost selves. In this life, Mukuro Rokudo had not destroyed the Estraneo, instead dying for good during the fourth path. Thanks to this, the Gesso and Estraneo had teamed up to do further experimentation and, in the process, developed wings that sprouted from his back with the activation of his flames.

_(And how ironic was it, that the Tsunayoshi of this world had died in between the time Mukuro experienced his third and fourth incarnations. Perhaps, without the call of his Sky, the boy's will had not been enough. [Byakuran, surprisingly enough, could relate.])_

In any case, the use of his wings made it extremely easy to fly to the highest level of the Vongola home base, the wind buffeting and rippling against his feathers as he soared upward, landing softly on a window sill and burning through the lock with a single touch of Sky flames. Byakuran slid the window open easily, the metal cool to the touch as he dropped silently onto the polished tile, his black boots soundless as he stalked the empty hallways, flames pulsing silently as they asked for the answering call of the Vongola ring to his Mare.

The white haired Gesso was unsurprised at the lack of alarms and, in fact, total lack of security in the upper levels of the building, despite it being the Vongola HQ. The Vongola had always been fairly relaxed, self-assured as they were by their power and reputation.

It usually cost Nono's son's their lives, and who knows how many other Vongola deaths.

_(But not Tsunayoshi's.)_

In the distance, the faint flare of answering Sky flames brushed against Byakuran's own, and it was the work of minutes to find the room and melt the door down until it was nothing but a puddle of boiling, molten metal on the floor. The Gesso heir flew over it easily, landing next to a pedestal holding the Vongola rings, gleaming in the faint light that shone through the open doorway. The mafia had locked them away, waiting for someone else of Vongola blood to bear their burden, perhaps for that bumbling fool, Iemitsu, to bear another heir-

As though anyone could replace his rival.

The lid to the case was snapped shut with a resounding clack, the click of the lock snapping into place resonating through the room as the gold links slid together easily, the silver box disappearing into Byakuran's pocket as the Vongola Sky Ring joined its brother Mare.

Just because he could, Byakuran blasted the wall leading to outside down with his flames, flying into the shimmering stillness of the night sky and leaving chaos in his wake.

* * *

Obtaining the Arcobaleno pacifiers was even easier. When Byakuran touched down outside the Giglio Nero mansion, Aria was already waiting for him, blue hair around her like a halo in the slowly lightening darkness of the early dawn. At her feet laid a case, already filled with all the pacifiers but one. When she saw him, the other mafia boss simply smiled knowingly and removed her pacifier to join with the others, dying peacefully with that damning smile forever etched onto the kind lines of her face.

Which was, well, okay. Not quite what he had expected, Byakuran could admit.

Regardless, he wasn't above taking any advantage he came by, no matter the circumstances. And so, with the Sky pacifier around his neck, both rings on his fingers, and surrounded by all other parts of the Tri-Ni-Sett, Byakuran surged his dying will as high as he could, desperately pumping out more and more of the blazing, tinted orange and fueling it with all the resolve and purpose as he could. Yet, the three objects continued to suck greedily at his flames, draining the winged boy dry.

_If I had known I would die... Ah, I still would have done it. I wish I could have known my Tsunayoshi._

* * *

The body of a man, dressed in shades of white and lavender, vanished with a flare of light, leaving nothing but his imprint upon the crumpled, dew covered grass. A breeze blew through the clearing, wind chimes tingling slightly in the wind as the grass and trees bent back, and the sky rippled.

A man in a checkered mask and iron hat arrived just a minute later.

_(A minute was all it took to change a world.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, better or worse than Squalo's? What did you think of my representation of Byakuran? Good? Bad?  
> Sorry for the shorter chapter. Don't worry, though - the next one is going to be a giant. Bear with me. It might take a little longer than a week, maybe around two, but I've already started it and will finish as soon as I can!  
> Who do you want to see after Byakuran? At the moment it's Xanxus, but any suggestions?  
> (This is a "subtle" ploy to get more reviews. Please.)


	4. Ocean Sky, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ocean is only a reflection of the sky.
> 
> (There was nothing left for Byakuran to reflect.)
> 
> But in the end, that didn't really matter. For Byakuran was an ocean of fire, of death and rebirth, and this time, he would give rise to his own reflection, and entwine with the sky as the sun guides him to the horizon in the light of dawn.
> 
> (And, in the deep, where none would ever witness, monsters of madness and wrath stirred, their eyes peering through the mirrors at those souls who had stared too long into the abyss, foolishly searching for the treasures the ocean had claimed in its endless depths.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real chapter summary: Basically, Byakuran has issues, but he's working on them. In the meantime, Tsuna - and then, the world! ...Wait, SHOICHI!
> 
> The amount of study time with psychology and Byakuran himself that I put into this chapter alone is frankly frightening. Help.
> 
> Okay, so, remember when I said go check out character theme songs? Well, don't do that for Byakuran. Because it gives you Ideas. But then you have too many Ideas and everything just goes… And that's it. It goes and goes and goes and then goes some more.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a compromise of what I want and what canon wants. Because what canon Byakuran would do and what my Byakuran would do are very different, and this fic is meant to explore canon reactions in AU situations. Canon Byakuran would likely befriend Tsuna, help him become the strongest and best version of himself, leave without warning, create Millefiore, and then come back to have his grand finale with his rival, who just wants to know what happened to his best friend. But I can't do that. I want fluff. So, I may have fallen back on a fanfiction trope mixed with canon implications.
> 
> All hail the purifying Sky, Sawada Tsunayoshi, and the mental capabilities of internalized Lightning flames. Also, Shoichi held me at gunpoint to include him. So here he is, too. Actually, I think he staged a hostile revolution… Oh well.
> 
> Huge thank you to MY NEW BETA, OperaEagle IcelynLacelett and to MY GOOD FRIEND, who I shall (partly) jokingly call Byakuran, for sticking with me throughout this monstrous chapter!
> 
> This chapter is not yet betaed, nor are any of the previous ones. My new beta is a bit busy with an opera, so everyone, please wish her good luck!
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of blood, character deaths, obsessive and insane Byakuran.

* * *

  _I'll beget a perfect world_

_**Please don't let me down** _

_Scorch the soul! The party starts from here_

_I'll beget a perfect world_

_**Please don't let me down.** _

_Be mad with anger! The reality is in plain sight, party!"_

 -Perfect World (Byakuran Character Song)

* * *

"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you."

- **Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

There was no warning.

No obvious sign of travel, no sweet embrace of unconsciousness and lurching, unsteady return to the waking, just - _pop!_

There, and then here, the rough surface of cement scraping his cheek as he shifted, too weak to lift himself properly so he instead shuffled to lean his back against the alley wall, each breath shaking from the tremendous effort. The air reeked due to the dumpster his shoulder was resting on, and the sticky, greasy dirt tainted his clothes. He looked down, assessing himself for any damage from the time travel (don't be a ghost, don't be Ghost, don't, he's real, he's _real_ -)

He paused.

A chuckle slipped out slowly, followed by another, longer one before soon the white haired man was cackling to himself as a child's hand lifted towards the sky, a raised fist in triumph.

He did it.

* * *

So, looking back on it, maybe he should have planned a bit more carefully than "Tri-Ni-Sett."

Then again, he always had been one to act on impulse. Shoichi had never failed to nag him about it, back before the Sun had grown disturbed of his insanity, had left him, frightened by his increasing mania and violence -

Oh. Before.

_Oh._

Shoichi!

* * *

He was in America. _America._ How was he supposed to get to Namimori - to _his_ Shoichi and Tsunayoshi - from _America_?! Byakuran sighed in frustration as he sat atop the Hollywood sign, a stolen bag of marshmallows steadily emptying in his hands as he munched in annoyance, the sweet taste a balm to his temper and an addiction he would readily admit to.

He sighed, feet kicking against the white metal, his wings out and resting against his back should he need to fly at a moment's notice, visible to everyone and crackling with green electricity. (Omerta. Pffft.) Ever since his trip to the past, the once instinctive Sky flames had been out of reach, leaving him with his (admittedly _very_ strong) secondary, Lightning. It was as though the Tri-Ni-Sett had drained him dry and then some, had stolen from him the comforting swirl of orange and warmth that had once flared with each step just as his chest rose with each breath.

Until his Sky flames returned (and they _would_ ), he would have to make due with Lightning. Perhaps it was for the best, as he had no idea if the past version of him still existed in this world, or if his mind had taken over the body of his child self, and flaring identical flames was bound to make someone - the Cervello - notice. At least he could still activate his wings, if only the white version.

The wind ruffled his feathers slightly as he stood, white hair and white wings shining in the sun as he brushed off the clinging dirt and internalized his lightning flames, his mind clearing and sharpening as his wings snapped open and he flew off, towards the rising sun that cast his shadow longer behind him and turned his eyes to amethyst and hair to gold .

It was probably symbolic.

He didn't care.

* * *

Before figuring out a way to Namimori, Byakuran had Business to attend to. He peered down at the modest house below him, watching a young (not identical, not yet, but _so close_ ) boy with white hair and purple eyes play innocently. Ligonier, Noble County, Indiana - his once upon a time, childhood home - and, he remembered proudly, the marshmallow capital of the world. Home sweet home.

It would be easy to swoop down, to replace the not-imposter but still-not-him that had his face, to go back to being an ordinary child, to see his family again, alive and whole. To live with no worries.

But.

There were no cherry trees in Ligonier. No ocean on all sides, no mafia and certainly no Flames. No Italy, no Japan. No shy, genius redheads with kind smiles and too-wise eyes, no brunettes that shone with determination and acceptance.

Byakuran stood, balancing easily on the branch as it swayed and creaked in the breeze, the bark rough under his soft, child fingers before he flitted away, chasing the breeze and the start of yet another day in the past.

* * *

Absence, Byakuran mused as a seagull rested on his head, eying his marshmallows hungrily, really did make the heart grow fonder. Especially when the absence had been completely undesired and unrealized until it was far too late. He sighed as he flared his Lightning flames again, shooing away the circling birds long enough to pop another sweet candy in his mouth before they returned.

Another internal surge of Lightning and his thoughts settled, his mind speeding through memories of other worlds, of other Tsunayoshis and Shoichis, of what to do when this time came and when to act and how to do it. He promptly shoved them all to the back of his mind.

No other Byakuran had been in the same situation as him, had known what he did. Had known what it felt like to be adrift, to know, _"something is missing and it always will be."_ The other Byakurans, even when they'd been enemies of Vongola, had always had the satisfaction of meeting and overcoming their rival.

They hadn't sat in front of a small grave, hadn't traced the words carved into stone and felt the dead grass crumble beneath their feet as they stared at two dates, permanently etching them into their memory and realizing " _this_ _was my chance, and I missed it."_ Hadn't chased after their Shoichi, intent on begging him to return, kidnapping him if need be, only to find himself holding a red-splattered body, the crimson matching the hair it pooled around as empty eyes that had once shone the same color focused on something distant, something beyond a lonely, white haired boy who kneeled in blood, drowning in the taste of copper, his hands physically stained red for the first time. (It was not the last.)

Waves lapped leisurely against the bow of the cargo ship as it surged forward, heading from New York to England. From there, he would fly to Italy, rest for a week and check up on the state of the mafia, and then move on to Japan.

It had been a week since he woke up in California.

He had a month until Sawada Tsunayoshi was murdered.

* * *

Byakuran's arrival in Italy was largely unnoticed.

For approximately five minutes.

By the time the sun set on Byakuran's last day in Italy, he was lying half on, half off his hotel bed, watching the TV from where he was hanging upside down and popping marshmallows in his mouth. The news was filled with reports of fires sweeping the country, leaving very few survivors.

It went unsaid that most of the victims were mafia.

Byakuran smirked before changing the channel, settling on a random game show _("Choice! Chance! It's your opportunity to win big and party!")_ and relaxing against the bed. His amethyst eyes fixed on the two rings he wore as he gripped his necklace, orange light seeping through his fingers. It would take him four days to reach Japan if he flew. Or, he contemplated, eying the pile of trophies he had collected from his recent conquests, only a few hours if he went by plane.

Deciding to start selling off the items and registering the cash in the morning, Byakuran hummed as he contemplated a much more important decision. It was time he made a choice in this new game of chance.

Who first? Tsunayoshi, or Shoichi?

Either way, the party was about to begin, and he had all the dancers in the palm of his hand.

* * *

Byakuran marveled at his luck.

It had always been quite good, in his mind, but he was on a roll. He smirked down at the scene, his wings bristling in agitation as his shoes scuffed against the concrete ledge of the building he was spying from. Below, two small figures were hunched together, a dot of brown and orange in front of a speck of yellow and red. Surrounding them was a group of men dressed in black suits with guns in their hands.

He had forgotten that Tsunayoshi and Shoichi lived in the same area.

He had forgotten that, when humans panicked, they changed their minds and sped up their plans. And that setting fire to everyone he deemed unworthy in the mafia tended to lead to not just panic, but hysteria.

One of the men stepped forward, a coil of rope in his hands. Less than a 100 yards away, the Namimori river flowed swiftly, high from the rains the previous week.

Suddenly, there was a flare of orange, and Tsunayoshi broke free from the seal that had trapped his flames. Shoichi glowed gold in response, harmonizing instantly and intertwining with the amber hovering protectively in front of him.

Against trained mafiosos, it still wouldn't be enough.

Byakuran's own Lightning hummed, paused, and exploded in arcs of emerald.

Tsunayoshi and Shoichi were _his._

* * *

Byakuran stood calmly amidst the unmoving bodies of the foolish humans that had dared threaten his Sky and Sho-chan. He turned slowly, wings settling and vanishing as he cut off his flames, staring back at the two wary sets of eyes aimed at him.

Tsuna had collapsed from the strain of unlocking the seal and entering dying will mode for the first time. The only reason the young boy was awake in the first place was thanks to the yellow glow emitting from Sho-chan's hands where they rested against the young Sky's chest, the Sun holding him close protectively. Byakuran flared his Lightning, sending feelings of reassurance down the newly formed bonds, careful not to transmit any of the possessiveness and rage building inside of him, nor any of the hazed mania that typically clouded his every thought.

(Though, between the stabilizing factor of his Lightning, and the harmonizing of the Sky, he wondered how long that would remain to be the case.

He doubted he would be any saner for it.)

The rush of emotions seemed to do their job, however, as both Tsunayoshi and Shoichi calmed slightly.

"Hello, I'm Byakuran! Please take care of me! I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun together!"

Tsunayoshi and Shoichi exchanged wide-eyed, incredulous glances.

Byakuran smirked.

_Hey, please don't let me down this time, okay? I'll make us our very own Perfect World, don't worry._

* * *

It was dark out, and both Tsuna and Sho-chan were safe, having a sleepover at the Sawada residence so that Byakuran could watch over both of them simultaneously. His feet dangled over the roof as he stared up at the night sky, the wind ruffling his hair and feathers. He looked like nothing more than a pale, white ghost, swaying emptily in the breeze.

The last time he saw Sho-chan… Byakuran shut his eyes, feeling cloying blood on his clean (but always red) hands.

His Sun had wanted nothing to do with the mafia, nothing to do with world domination or conquest. The only reason he had ever agreed in the first place was for the sake of Byakuran himself, for his best friend. But as time passed and Byakuran's madness grew, he knew he had frightened the Sun, worried him. Terrified him.

He had thought nothing of it.

Until one day Shoichi was gone, had run in a futile attempt to escape - and the redhead knew it. Knew the hopelessness of what he was attempting.

Byakuran had found Shoichi meeting with Vongola recruiters, and decided to kill them all before they could take his Sho-chan away from him. The haze of insanity had settled over the white Sky, controlled his movements as he danced in their blood.

He had turned to the last one standing - the heir of CEDEF, Basil - and gleefully attacked, using only his flames to propel him and strengthen his body as he reached forward -

He had not expected Sho-chan to jump in front of him.

He remembered a gentle hand against his cheek, a whispered "I'm sorry," as his Sun's body went limp around his hand, and the beating heart in his grasp stopped. As his best friend escaped permanently the only way he could.

He didn't bother with the fleeing CEDEF Rain. All his attention was on the teenage boy in front of him, the bright red contrasting against the White Spell uniform as Byakuran held him close, and cried for the first time since the Mare ring was his.

Byakuran's world cracked.

A month later, and he had been laying flowers at the grave of the boy who was supposed to be his rival.

There had been nothing left to lose.

_(His world had shattered.)_

But now… Now they were back. The pieces crudely melted back together with the force of his Flames. Byakuran could hear their voices drifting through the open window, as childish as this new body. The once-Sky supposed it was like the Arcobaleno, too much power caused his body to suppress itself into a younger form so that his Flames could handle the strain. At least his was a child and not a baby. Maybe this body would even work like the Arcobaleno Sky, and allow him to age. Time would tell.

The glint of metal and glass from another roof alerted him to a sniper, and Byakuran's fingers twitched. Crackling green lightning answered his call, curling around the telephone wires and striking the distant roof. The answering scream of pain and metal followed by a rather large crash made him grin.

No one would take them from him again.

(Not even himself.)

* * *

Readjustment was a struggle for them all.

For Sho-chan and Tsuna, it was remembering what safety felt like, how to trust. Slowly, the flinches stopped. They no longer hid from any man in a suit, nor did they run past alleys and rivers as though the hounds of hell were chasing them. They were recovering.

It was a different matter for Byakuran.

He had to remember how to be _normal._

It had been so long since he'd had to fit in - let alone as a _child_. His smirks were too cruel, his grins too wide. His eyes so easily fell into a mafioso's death stare, and he prowled instead of walked. Everything made him twitch, and the constant, boiling haze of insanity and rage grew inside of him, threatening to explode.

He hated civilians.

But.

For the sake of seeing Sho-chan and Tsuna smile again, he would bear it.

Byakuran grinned as they called his name, covering distance in a way none other than a trained athlete (or a top class mafioso) should be able to, laughing as he intertwined his hands with theirs, the Namimori Elementary uniform tight against his skin.

* * *

Byakuran had, surprisingly enough, found an ally in one Hibari Kyoya.

He remembered other worlds, where the other boy had been a man, hailed as a demon, wreathed in black and purple flames behind the brilliant, blazing orange of the sky. But here he was still a child, knuckles wound so tightly around too-large tonfa that they turned white, teeth clenched in an ever-present snarl as an adult sized gakuran hung loosely around his child shoulders.

Byakuran had always wondered what kind of parents could raise a child like Hibari Kyoya. Looking at the other boy, so still yet anything but calm as he stared fixedly downward in the drenching downpour, he supposed he had his answer.

The raven haired boy looked up, meeting eyes with someone who was as white as he was black. The other bowed, and Hibari bowed back. They turned away from each other, and the white one moved away, heading forward as the dark child turned back to the stone below him, and bowed his head.

They next crossed paths months later. Byakuran was in the school yard, smile too wide and entire body tensed too tightly as he listened to the annoying, inane, _boring,_ chatter of the _mindless_ children milling around him. To most he was the picture of cheerfulness, simply waiting for the school day to end, his usual friends off on a field trip with the rest of their class.

Hibari Kyoya was _not_ most.

Byakuran looked up and spied the black haired boy in the window. The other bowed, held out a hand, and then turned away.

Byakuran followed.

The roof and reception room became their meeting places, where they could both escape the crowding of those that didn't understand them, but remain close enough to feel the presence of another. Another who _mattered,_ even if neither could truly understand the other.

In time, Tsuna and Sho-chan would occasionally come to join them at lunchtimes, but more often than not, there were only two figures stretched out on the warm cement of the roof, one white and one black, both staring at the endless, cloudy sky above them.

It was the start of something as beautiful as it was terrible.

In Byakuran's Perfect World, he'd make Hibari Kyoya his general, and no one would break the angel's law, for fear of facing a demon's wrath.

* * *

Years passed, and they moved on - together.

(When asked, Kyo-kun replied that rules could not constrain him and that he would switch schools when _he_ wanted, and when the school he was leaving had been properly disciplined enough. Byakuran simply smiled, and went back to watching the clouds above.)

The Sawada residence had grown overnight, Tsuna insisting that his savior stays, and Sho-chan all but moving in, seeking comfort from his accepting Sky rather than the derisive nonchalance of his family. When met with two child faces and pleading, worried Flames tugging on his own, Byakuran collapsed like a marshmallow held over a fire for too long.

(Literally. When he agreed, both boys had cheered and tackled him to the floor. Byakuran laughed, and it was _real_.)

Kyo-kun was a constant presence around the house, coming and going like a feral cat and one never knew when - or where - he would appear. On one memorable occasion, Byakuran had found the boy crouched on top of the refrigerator, sipping freshly brewed tea. When Sawada Nana returned home hours later, she found two boys above her - one on the fridge drinking tea, and the other half in, half out of the cupboards, stuffing his face with marshmallows. She giggled and fetched the camera.

Byakuran's Sky flames had not yet returned, but the reassuring hum of Tsuna's blaze just beneath his skin was a suitable substitute at the moment. He could feel the fire deep inside, the embers starting to heat up from more than just the crackling sparks that he had been running on for so long. Soon, he would be whole.

Byakuran smiled, his wings flaring out as he shot towards the sky, looking down on Namimori and grinned. His Lightning thrummed from the exhilaration of freedom and excitement, and the answering, chaotic hum of three others made his grin widen even further.

The Cheshire in the sky smirked. Soon, the party would really begin.

Reborn would arrive within the month.

After all, Tsuna-kun was the only Vongola heir left. Enrico had been shot, Massimo drowned, and Federico destroyed in a blazing inferno.

Byakuran had made sure of it.

 _(Everything for the sake of_ **their** _Perfect World.)_

* * *

When the door opened, Reborn was not met with the smiling face of a brunette, Japanese woman.

Instead, it was a tall, foreign boy with white hair and white clothes and white smile and jaded purple eyes.

A boy that, despite his reconnaissance of Namimori for the past two weeks, he had never seen before - let alone in the house of his target, Sawada Tsunayoshi. Behind him were two more boys - only one of which he had expected to find in the quaint home.

It seemed that this assignment would be even more interesting than the last.

* * *

Byakuran could barely contain his excitement as the Sun Arcobaleno stepped inside, obviously wary but not frightened (not yet) of the two unexpected, very obviously Flame Active children.

Byakuran, meanwhile, was attempting to stifle his grin and refrain from breaking out into manic giggles and cackles. He succeeded.

Mostly.

Reborn's eyes flicked to him suspiciously before returning to surveying the room as the baby tipped his fedora at Tsunayoshi in greeting.

"Ciaossu. I'm your new home tutor, Reborn."

"Isn't it wonderful, Tsu-kun?"

" _HIIEEEE!_ Kaa-san, what did you _do_?"

"Ugh, Tsuna, now my stomach hurts…"

"Hmm~? How interesting, hehe."

* * *

The introduction of the mafia and Deathperation bullets that Reborn brought with his arrival was not something unexpected to Shoichi and Tsuna. Since they had first met Byakuran, they had been aware of who - and what - they were. Of how the flames that burned inside them represented their Dying Wills, and how their bonds with each other sang when the Flames came out.

They were not the only ones who knew.

An orange flame roared in the quiet night of Namimori, long after a certain hitman had gone to sleep, and four colors flared, lighting up the sky in response. One was tinted burnt orange.

A white haired teen grinned, the blazing Flames casting their light on him, turning him from white to rainbow. Only six left, and their Perfect World could begin.

Byakuran turned away from the colors that lit up the night and headed back inside, squeezing in between his Sun and Sky, and sighing happily.

(He steadfastly ignored the tugging inside of him, the empty space that even Tsuna's Flames could not fully fill. There was no room in his Sky for his Funeral Wreaths. Not yet.)

* * *

When Reborn shot Tsuna with the Deathperation bullet for the first time, Byakuran did not react well.

There was the crack of a gun, and intellectually, Byakuran knew that Tsuna would be fine.

But. There was a trickle of blood from Tsuna's forehead, and his Sky was falling limply to the ground.

Suddenly-

There was a seven-year-old boy curled up on the pavement, his body limp and distorted from the water that had filled his lungs and suffocated him, had snuffed out even the faintest embers of life that once _burned_ inside the brunette. There was a redheaded teenager, his face forever set in a sad, lonely smile as his eyes gazed into the empty abyss of death and was painted red.

His hands were still dripping that damning red, they _wouldn't stop-_

Byakuran blinked, the scent of ozone heavy in the air around him. A pair of orange-wreathed arms were wrapped around him, pulling him tight against a slim chest, and there was something - someone - glowing yellow and clinging to his front, pinning him down.

The world shifted, resettled. Began anew.

Tsuna and Sho-chan were not dead. They were there, and alive, safe in the world he provided for them and wrapped as tightly in his arcs of crackling green as he was in their soft, beaming light.

"Byaku-nii?" The flames were dying down, and Tsuna was looking up at him with those pleading puppy eyes of his. Byakuran melted and slumped into their embrace.

His eyes, however, remained piercing, fixed on the hitman, whose clothes were singed and partly in tatters.

The message was clear.

* * *

Byakuran was with Kyo-kun, watching Tsuna face off against the silver Storm, Sho-chan herding away the curious Rain that had come to investigate. Kyo-kun's fingers were twitching, itching for his tonfa, and Byakuran himself was even worse, green lightning sparking and curling possessively from his fingers, up his arms, and over his head, like a ferocious emerald dragon on the verge of snapping.

Still, they restrained themselves, watching from a distance that wouldn't cause interference - unless, of course, they intended to interfere. Byakuran, from his memories of the various futures, knew that if any of the guardians besides him could be trusted with the information he knew, could be trusted to act only when absolutely necessary, it was Hibari Kyoya.

And someone else did need to know, because Byakuran was still _weak_ , still missing his strongest Flame, for all that it was nearer, and for all that he was aware of the major details, he didn't know most dates. He had no idea when to expect the arrival of Rokudo Mukuro and the Kokuyo Gang, let alone the Varia.

Another explosion and frightened cry had his whole body snapping to attention, and Kyo-kun's did the same. The only thing holding them back was the restraining grip they had on each other's arms - and the windowsill. Which would probably need to be replaced after this, Byakuran mused as he noticed the cracks in the wood.

(Anything to distract himself from killing his Sky's Storm. And, by extension, one of _his_ Storms.)

There was a cry of "REBORN!" from the window, and both Kyo-kun and Byakuran relaxed as the familiar, reassuring wave of power from their Sky washed over them. They knew that Tsuna could enter Hyper Dying Will mode whenever necessary, that the only thing stopping him was the game they were playing with the Vongola, but that was hardly reassuring when watching their fluffy little Sky facing off against a hurricane of smoking bombs.

Byakuran grabbed the spare outfit that the Skylark had set out for this very purpose and strode towards the door, eager to play his role in this game. Kyo-kun and he bowed - as was their custom, ever since that first day in the rain - and the Lightning turned and glided forward, while the Cloud returned his gaze downward to their smiling Sky.

* * *

The addition of Gokudera was not as smooth as Byakuran had hoped.

The silver-haired bomber was defensive, and constantly on guard. He trusted only Tsuna, and even then, not fully. Not enough to be himself in the other's presence, to reveal his genius intellect and multi-Flames, or dare to question his new Sky.

Byakuran was not exactly what one would call an empathetic person, but he was trying.

(He was not succeeding.)

The new Storm was not only taking up all _his_ time with _his_ Sky, but also kept causing constant problems. He was quick to anger and quicker to draw, and the Disciplinary Committee was working overtime to fix the damage.

Their Cloud was distinctly not happy about that.

(When Kyo-kun's not happy, nobody's happy. Except for Byakuran… Sometimes.)

Still, even Kyo-kun would agree - though never admit - that it was _worth_ _it_ to feel the burning edge of crimson flames brushing up against their own, enveloping them all in the protective field of a loyal, raging Storm.

When Byakuran looked up at the night sky, there was one more color added, and the bright red almost seemed to chase the copper that steadily dripped from his hands.

Halfway there.

Reborn was none the wiser, and neither were the Vongola.

* * *

Byakuran was half asleep on his desk when the chaos started.

He was bored as always - he had over thirty _years_ of memories in his head, most of them involving being a mafia boss - why would he need to pay attention to something as inane and pointless as school? He only came to keep watch over what was his.

Gokudera was yelling, as usual - this time at one Kurokawa Hana, who was near fanatical about justice and had sharp eyes that caught everything. Despite that, there was approval when he met her gaze, never judgment. Next to her was her best friend, Sasagawa Kyoko, whose polite smiles were almost never genuine.

They were when she spoke to Tsuna and the rest of his, though, so Byakuran hardly minded. She, Sho-chan, and Tsuna were deep in discussion about some new program the redhead had designed, and Byakuran couldn't help but smile at how excited - how _alive_ \- his Sun was.

Suddenly, there was chaos in the halls, spreading into the rooms, and Byakuran had only an instant to wonder where Kyo-kun was before the words that were being yelled caught his ears.

"YAMAMOTO TAKESHI IS ON THE ROOF! HE'S GOING TO JUMP!"

Amethyst and amber eyes met, and the two leaped into action as the crowd parted like the Red Sea, their people following behind them faithfully. Judging by the screams and cries of pain from up ahead, their Cloud had joined them and was part of the reason.

When they reached the roof, Tsuna continued to surge forward, practically vaulting over the rickety fence and reaching for Takeshi desperately.

Byakuran turned to the others and directed them to their places, ordering his knights and watching them herd the pawns away from the Namimori baseball star, holding them back. A cruel smirk danced on the Gesso heir's lips from the increasingly distant, pained cries as Kyo-kun's cleaned house below. Everyone near him reared away in terror at the dark smile and flashing glint in purple eyes.

A surge of relief came from the bond as a stream of peaceful Rain flooded in, filling yet another missing part of their group. Byakuran could not relax, though, despite the soothing hum of Tranquility that followed. Not until his Sky and new Rain were safe next to him. While the others were celebrating, his eyes were sharp, body tense, and the two other boys turned to climb back to safety.

The fence cracked.

Byakuran _flew._

For less than a second, his wings were out behind him, pushing him forward with all the speed of an oncoming storm as he reached forward. The children _(still so young, compared to him)_ were slipping, falling, and-

Two hands met his, and he _pulled._

He collapsed under the weight of the other two and force of his own pull, feet slamming into the ledge to stop his momentum as the rough cement scraped his elbows and palms. Byakuran hardly even noticed, too busy grabbing the other two and pulling them close, eyes cataloging every inch of them for signs of harm as he felt their frantic pulses beneath his hands.

Yamamoto's eyes were wide with shock and his breathing heavy, palms sweating as he trembled violently. Confusion shone from hazel eyes, unsure of what to do when confronted with not only near death, but also the strange actions of the other teen, and the warm feelings spreading through him that were most assuredly not _his_ emotions.

Tsuna was also shaking, the adrenaline leaving him twitching as he clung desperately to both Byakuran and Yamamoto. Barely visible, burning orange wrapped around their hands, and Byakuran gripped back just as strongly.

The rest of their group piled in around them, a mix murmuring reassurances and shouts for their recklessness.

A line of green electricity curled around them, intertwining everyone together even as another branch shot off to the distant ground below. Just because his Flame was no longer Sky did not mean that Byakuran had forgotten the feel of harmony and how to bring (bind) people together.

* * *

Byakuran was not there when Bianchi attempted to assassinate Tsuna.

That was… probably for the best.

Tsuna arrived at school with an empty thermos and passed it to Gokudera, smiling sheepishly and apologizing for accidentally spilling his sister's drink. Gokudera, naturally, exploded over Tsuna not only knowing that Bianchi was his sister, but also that said sister just attempted to _kill his Sky._

Byakuran's smile did not reach his eyes as he ruffled Tsuna's hair and chuckled, prowling out of the room like a predator on the hunt. Kyo-kun dropped down next to him from the rafters on the way, and they chased the pink haired menace from their school.

Byakuran did not notice how the other guardians relaxed as he left to take care of the assassin, how fully and completely the others trusted and accepted him.

He would not know how to react if he had.

* * *

Bianchi, however, was persistent.

The Poison Scorpion managed to be accepted as the substitute for the suddenly sick (by food poisoning) Home Economics teacher, and Kyo-kun's tonfa gleamed from where he perched in the rafters, waiting for her to make one wrong move.

But for all his skill, Kyo-kun was inexperienced - especially in matters of Flames. With a little help from Mist, Bianchi slipped away easily.

Byakuran, however, was not so easily fooled.

Both he and Tsuna watched as Bianchi swapped out Kyoko's food - and then everyone else's in the room - for Poison Cooking, and the hovering traces of Mist flames prevented anyone else from noticing. Tsuna gulped, but was obviously prepared to take action and accept the consequences.

As if Byakuran would allow such a thing.

"Ara, I'm awfully hungry today. Hmm… hehehe. You were right, Tsuna, I should have had lunch!"

The gaze of every girl in the room swiveled to Byakuran so fast that it was a wonder they didn't get whiplash.

With his white hair, amethyst eyes, constant smiles, exceptional height and build, as well as his "exotic" origins and purple triangles tattoo - which of course he had gotten as soon as he woke up in America all those years ago - he was easily the most popular boy in school. Even more so than Gokudera and Yamamoto.

All the girls circled around him, offering their plates as his two fellow guardians moved to stand on either side of their worried Sky. Byakuran simply winked at the fluffy brunette before turning to the girls and giving his most charming smile, smirking as they swooned and fell for him easily.

With Lightning flames hardening his internal organs and speeding up his metabolism, Byakuran easily ate every single bite of Poison Cooking, smiling and thanking each girl personally. He could practically feel the shock from the hallway and he could not help the predatory grin that spread his lips wide, if only for a moment, at the glimpse of two wide, black eyes.

Byakuran licked his lips and smiled, the grin twisting on his lips like a curled serpent, waiting to strike. He closed his eyes, covering the murderous glint and dangerous sharpness that was rising to the surface from purple depths. The girls around him squealed in "love struck" awe as Byakuran slid gracefully to his feet from where he had been lounging on one of the desks, stretching wide and allowing himself to appear completely casual and relaxed.

He returned to his gang and they walked out together as the school bell rang, Tsuna clutching his arm after a quiet, worried murmur of "Byaku-nii…" as the others filed in around them, Kyo-kun lifting a single hand in a silent farewell before stalking off to patrol.

They dropped Tsuna and Sho-chan off at the house, confident that they would be safe enough with the vengeful Skylark on the prowl for any signs of mischief or danger as Byakuran left once more to walk the other two home. Yamamoto waved goodbye cheerfully, and he and Gokudera made their way to the other's apartment in silence.

Gokudera unlocked the door and stepped in, suddenly pausing halfway through the threshold. Byakuran, from where he was leaning against the opposite wall, perked up in interest.

The silver-haired bomber turned and asked in a tone that, while not worried, per se, was definitely concerned, "Not that I care or anything, but are you alright? The Tenth can't have anyone dragging him down."

Surprise flit across Byakuran's face for a moment before he laughed, not the cheerful, tittering kind he used so often, but deep and full. Hurt flashed across Gokudera's face and was followed by rage, but before the Italian could begin yelling, Byakuran smiled, eyes open, and it was real.

"Thank you, Haya-kun. I'm fine, don't worry~! It wouldn't do for me to drag down our Sky, hm?" Byakuran turned and left with another laugh and an even more cheerful skip to his step than usual.

Gokudera closed the door behind him, sinking to the ground in a mix of surprise and inexplicable terror, wondering why it felt as though he had stared Death in the eyes and simply received a pat on the head in return.

A rim of blazing orange encircled Byakuran's eyes.

* * *

When Byakuran arrived home, it was to find Tsuna and Sho-chan sitting at the dinner table with earplugs in and a crying cow next to them.

"Oh~? Who is this?"

The little boy jumped up and beamed at him, and Byakuran was suddenly reminded of his crushing weakness for sweet things. And the cow child was sweet. Not as much as his fluffy Sky, of course, but still _adorable._

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Who am I? I am Lambo! Who are you? You are Lambo! Bwa-ha-ha! Lambo-sama will let you be his other servant!" The boy chanted in a sing-song voice, hopping onto the table and posing like a superhero. Byakuran easily snatched the child away from Reborn's ten-ton hammer, and sent a deadly glare at the hitman before turning back and giving the little boy a soft smile that felt unnatural on his face.

"Ara, are you now? Amazing! I'm Byakuran, but you can call me Byaku-nii if you'd like! I trust you'll take very good care of me, eh, Lambo-sama? And I'll take very good care of you, too."

Even mostly closed, the gleaming eyes did not miss the tremble of the child's mouth, nor the wide, teary eyed expression that flashed across his face before disappearing. The child looked serious, and Byakuran was reminded that this boy was not only a child of the mafia, but the origin of the Ten Year Bazooka, and had likely seen countless things that no small child should.

"Lambo would like a Byaku-nii," the small boy stated solemnly, tangling his sticky hands in white hair, and Byakuran was lost. Their Lightnings aligned, thrummed, and suddenly Lambo's Flames were intertwined with his, both of them Lightnings under the same vast Sky. The other Flame Active residents of the house turned to them in shock.

Byakuran's eyes slipped closed as he smiled, his grip on the little boy shifting and tightening ever so slightly as he sat just to the right of Tsuna, and waited patiently for Kaa-san ( _not_ Mama) to bring dinner, feeling the rise and fall of a tiny chest against his own and a heartbeat that matched the pounding drumbeat in his ears.

* * *

Byakuran was out training with Kyo-kun when the small, Chinese girl arrived.

Much like with Lambo, the white-haired man trapped in a teenager's body arrived home to find another chair at the table filled. I-Pin and Lambo got along like a house on fire, and Byakuran was a cheerful instigator of their chaos. Judging by the grip Reborn had on his fedora, the Sun Arcobaleno was not amused.

When everyone else was asleep, Byakuran slipped into the children's room quietly, placing a softly glowing hand on the tiny girl's forehead. Glowing amber light enveloped her slowly, and when vanished, there was a small, orange flower mark just above her right brow. From now on, the Manjuu Time Bomb would be hers to control, not her emotion's. Lambo whimpered in his sleep, and a glancing touch of orange flames soothed the child as he fell deeper into slumber.

Byakuran took each tiny hand in his for a moment, and he remembered the first time he met Bluebell, when she was so young. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder what happened to her after he left. What is happening to her now.

He tucked both children in and returned to his room, sliding between Tsuna and Sho-chan with the ease of practice. He yawned sleepily, exhausted from dredging up even the smallest amount of still flickering, recovering Sky Flames.

For now, he would work on building his Perfect World. Once his Sky Flames were back and the Varia dealt with, he would find his Funeral Wreaths and bring their Perfect World one step closer to completion.

* * *

Bianchi was in the kitchen come morning.

Reborn intercepted the trio on the stairs, explaining who exactly the pink haired assassin was, and what her role in training Tsuna would be. Namely, poison specialist and babysitter. Tsuna accepted the intrusion into his household very well, smiling kindly and Sho-chan followed his lead. Bianchi, for all her death threats and exclamations of love, was polite in return and headed back into the kitchen, humming merrily and offering her assistance.

Byakuran's grip tightened, and his eyes slid close.

Sawada Nana's happy voice was cheerful as she mingled with the Poison Scorpion.

Byakuran's smile twisted.

* * *

It was really only a matter of time before they ran into one Sasagawa Ryohei.

Literally, in this case.

(Really, Byakuran was only surprised it hadn't happened sooner.)

Tsuna had been dragged away from the group by the energetic Sun, who was demanding for the brunette to join his boxing club. Byakuran held back, watching Tsuna fight and grow ever more frustrated with the other boy's refusal to accept his denials. He would never cease to be amused by exactly how Tsuna had gathered his guardians.

The match was over, Dying Will bullets having once again revealed some interesting facts to everyone, and they were congratulating Tsuna on his win when chaos struck.

A girl's scream set everyone on high alert, especially when they recognized it as Kyoko's. Tsuna was all but vibrating in place as the karate team captain explained his goal of kidnapping Kyoko, and Byakuran could only marvel at how pathetic some humans could be.

"Ugh.. my stomach…" Sho-chan muttered in pain, clutching his stomach as the others closed rank around the nervous redhead.

"HAHAHA!" Byakuran's gaze snapped to the laughing karate captain as the others sneered in disgust. "What a wimp! The fighting hasn't even started yet! He and the fluffy brunette are such easy pickings! Let's have fun with 'em and rough 'em up a bit, eh boys?" The others laughed. The white Lightning stepped forward, hands in his pockets, slouched and unassuming.

He activated his Flames.

Bloodlust soaked the air, and the corners of the room grew hazy, as though physically representing the manic insanity that still clung to the white haired boy. A grin split his face from ear to ear, and his eyes became two purple crescents.

"Ehehehe… how rude of you. If you _mindless sheep_ ever threaten _my_ Sho-chan or Tsuna again, I'll slice you open and strangle you with your entrails before frying you to a crisp. I hear humans taste like pork. Not as good as marshmallows, but you take what you can get.~"

Several of the karate members went green as they stumbled away, the captain falling to his knees under the full force of the Gesso mafioso's bloodlust. Kyoko stepped away daintily, bowing to Byakuran and patting his shoulder in a friendly manner as she walked past.

A couple moved as though to attack, and Byakuran beat them down without mercy, causing several bloody noses and more in the process, and making his hands drip red. He was surrounded by unmoving, unconscious bodies, and remained still, standing unmoving in the center. For a minute, it seemed as though Byakuran was lost, gone to another world.

"Byaku-nii, let's just go home…"

Byakuran turned to Tsuna and wiped the blood from his hands.

"Ara, hehe. I got a little caught up. Sorry, Tsuna, everyone."

They left together, heading in the direction of the Sawada house. Byakuran glanced behind him, up over his shoulder, and his eyes met the small, onyx ones peering out from a tree. The grin that flashed across his face was nothing short of demonic, and his eyes burned with insanity and rage.

No matter what the hitman tried, he would never be able to remove the Sky from itself, after all. Byakuran and Tsuna were two parts of a whole.

(Distantly, he wondered if a small girl with navy hair and orange flower would complete them. He'd have to find out.)

* * *

The incident known as Skullitis Apocalypse is not spoken of by anyone in Japan. Ever.

Shamal's eyebrows took months to grow back.

His bank account took longer.

* * *

Byakuran marveled at Tsuna sometimes.

Gathering his Funeral Wreaths had been a fairly simple thing. Their broken Flames had sung to his, and he had called them home in return. They met each other halfway, and Byakuran helped those escape who needed it. They had fit seamlessly into their roles from day one, even clashing personalities discarded for the sake of their Family.

Tsuna, apparently, had to endure a life-threatening encounter each time he and his guardians so much as met.

The first sign of the Mist's arrival was the hospitalization of Mochida Kensuke.

The boy was notable only in that he had a fair amount of skill in kendo, and, more importantly, had the guts and gall to try and bully Tsuna, despite the clear threat presented by the brunette's white-haired friend.

Naturally, the kendo captain had learned his lesson quickly. But the tall brunette, rather than transfer schools as many others had done after facing Byakuran's wrath, went up to Tsuna in front of the entire school and apologized.

Byakuran was reluctantly impressed.

So while the swordsman was hardly their friend, he was, in a distant way, one of theirs, hovering on the edge of their group and more dependable than most. For someone like Byakuran, it was enough reason to count Kensuke as his toy, if nothing else.

While Byakuran had not cared when it was random students being attacked, he found that he did not appreciate the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered brunette laying still and unconscious, the white sheets that covered him making him seem pale and even weaker than he was.

The night both Ryohei and Kusakabe Tetsuya were found unconscious, bloody and beaten, the sky bled purple, green, and orange.

* * *

It was a war meeting.

They were all at the hospital, gathered in the private room Kyo-kun had arranged for Ryohei, Tetsuya, and Kensuke. The other Disciplinary members were in the room next to them, and Reborn with his allied forces (also known as Bianchi and Shamal) guarded either side of the door like sentinels, offering advice when necessary.

Tsuna, Byakuran, and Kyo-kun were seated at the table, a map of Namimori and its surrounding areas spread out before them, with the other Guardians boxing them in on all sides. Lambo and I-pin sat on Kaa-san's lap, the woman herself a worried but comforting presence that observed quietly on a chair next to Ryohei's bed. Next to her were Miura Haru (whose sudden appearance in their group Tsuna absolutely refused to explain to Byakuran), Kurokawa Hana, and Sasagawa Kyoko.

"So far, the attacks have all had two things in common," began Kyo-kun, his voice low and dark. There was a growl teasing at the edges, and the calmness he had gained from the Sky and its elements was lost. He was as feral as that first day back in the rain. "They have all been on students of Namimori Middle, and each has lost a certain number of teeth."

"It's obvious, isn't it? Not only are the victims a countdown, but they're a countdown of Namimori strongest. Each victim has been a known punk and fighter, or an athlete." Byakuran's drawl was dark and insidious, like boiling tar clinging to the walls and drowning, burning, any who stumbled into it. "As such, the next targets are also obvious, don't you think? _Us._ "

Kyo-kun nodded in agreement, and pulled out a red marker, circling several locations on the map and starring one of them. "Under the assumption that the herbivores are targeting certain people, attempting to figure out their den based on their prey is foolish. However, their hunting ground does seem to center around several possible dens, the most probable of which is Kokuyo Land." Here, the Cloud tossed several files onto the table, revealing the faces of four teens in camo uniforms. "These are four recent transfer students from Italy who showed up with no warning, and completely fraudulent documents. It is likely that they are at least part of the herbivore herd responsible for the attacks."

Tsuna took a deep, shuddering breath next to him, and the table cracked under the small Sky's fingers. "We won't run away. We don't know what these people want… if it's just to cause havoc, they may hurt more innocent people if we don't stop them. Either way, this is /our/ home, and we won't be chased away." There was a waver in Tsuna's voice, but it was determined nonetheless.

Both Byakuran and Reborn gave proud, bloodthirsty smiles.

Their reasons were very different.

* * *

They made their way to Kokuyo Land the next day, sleeping on extra beds Kyo-kun had demanded from the hospital. When they awoke, they were thrumming with energy and anticipation, their Flames weaving and intertwining with each other's in excitement. Reborn's eyes were dark and analytical, flickering over them all carefully.

Kaa-san, Haru, Hana, and Kyoko were staying in the hospital wing along with several DC members in order to watch over their fallen members and the children. After the main group's departure, Bianchi and Shamal patrolled the city, ensuring that there would be no attacks on civilians while the others laid siege on Kokuyo Land.

Byakuran was honestly a bit bored with the whole thing.

He would have much preferred to play a game with the Mist, but Tsuna needed experience against strong opponents before the Varia arrived.

With the help of Kyo-kun, they made their way to the theater easily. Byakuran kept himself out of the fights, cheering on the others as they fought and dragging their unconscious, tied up enemies with him.

No one bothered to ask why.

It is when they met Lancia that Byakuran felt the first stirrings of rage, of the red haze of insanity that deafened sound and blinded his eyes. Tsuna had run off into the forest, chasing a child he had glimpsed from the bushes. Kyo-kun had chased after him, leaving Byakuran to protect the others.

Haya-kun and Takeshi were on the ground behind him, coughing up blood and clutching their injuries. Sho-chan was already healing them, but it would not be enough to help them defeat Italy's strongest man.

"Ara, I remember you," Byakuran's voice is low as he grins, and it is a wild, playful thing. His wings snap out behind him, and crackling electricity crawled up from the ground and twines itself around his legs, up his body and over him. He looked like nothing less than an avenging angel.

"You…" Lancia's eyes are wide, and he takes a step back.

"It's okay, hehehe. It has been nearly seven years, after all. I look far different now than I did then." Reborn's head snapped to the white-haired child, and even Gokudera was shocked.

"The Mafia Trials… you were behind the burnings of hundreds of Famiglias!" It was Reborn who spoke, but the gasps that followed were not his. Byakuran turned his back on Lancia, meeting the horrified gazes of his Sky and Sun.

"They should not have hurt what is mine," he replied, an instant before a searing pain struck him, and his wings crumpled in on themselves. In hindsight, Byakuran probably shouldn't have turned his back on a dangerous opponent. He kept forgetting he wasn't as strong as he once was, in that past future world.

There was a pained, vicious cry, and orange erupted from Tsuna with the aid of a Dying Will bullet. Kyo-kun was returning from the forest with a small child in his arms, and Sho-chan helped Haya-kun and Takeshi to their feet. If he fought, Byakuran would only get in the way of their future.

He closed his eyes and allowed darkness to overcome him.

* * *

The air was cold, and the rattling of chains echoed throughout the room.

Byakuran's eyes snapped open as Mist intertwined itself with his Lightning and into their shared Sky.

Tsuna was in Hyper Dying Will mode, and Reborn looked anything but happy. The Sky was standing between the Vendice and his new Mist, the indigo haired boy held tightly in the brunette's arms as the other members of both the Kokuyo gang and Vongola gathered behind them.

"Checkerface."

Both Reborn and the Vendice snapped towards Byakuran as the white haired boy staggered to his feet. Byakuran untucked his necklace, revealing the cracked orange pacifier and Vongola and Mare rings that dangled on either side.

"I have information on Checkerface, and I want to make a trade."

For all that Byakuran's body was weak, his eyes were sharp, and behind the crackling Lightning that poured from him, a flicker of orange began to blaze.

* * *

When all was said and done, their hospital room had six more members. Futa was happily playing with Lambo and I-pin while the girls doted on them. Lancia, Ken, Chikusa, and M.M. were recovering from their injuries well, with the aid of Vongola Suns and medical care.

Rokudo Mukuro, however, was not so lucky.

The teen was deep in a coma, and no one could figure out why. Tsuna was breaking slowly, his new Mist so close yet out of reach, and so were the other guardians as a result. Byakuran looked down at his hands and watched how the orange that glowed seemed closer to crimson copper.

Without prompting, Rokudo would not reach out to his identical Mist, and their Sky's Perfect Would would never be complete.

Byakuran closed his eyes and went to comfort the crying Tsuna.

Guilt was a crippling thing.

* * *

The next day, Byakuran woke to a soft knocking on the door. Several others in the room were also awake, alert and ready to attack should it be a threat. Byakuran grinned at the faint wisp of Mist flames from beyond the door.

Byakuran rose gracefully, practically swaying as he went to the door and opened it calmly, inwardly chuckling at the flares of panic and annoyance behind him. Two figures were waiting for him, matching hair and outfits making them nearly identical.

Judging by their blurry outlines, Byakuran wondered if they actually were.

The two stepped inside, shoes clacking against the polished tile as they raised their Flames, indigo spilling throughout the room. Everyone jolted awake in response, their Flames instinctively flaring. The Mists slipped into their Sky easily and brought with them a Sun, Rain, Storm, and Lightning.

Byakuran's grin widened.

He did so love the unexpected.

When he looked up, Mukuro's smirk matched his, and they plunged one hand each into the Mist, gripping each other tightly while the others were none the wiser.

Tsuna's eyes flashed orange, and an unnoticed tear fell.

* * *

The Mafia Island incident (also known as the End of the Carcassa) was not spoken of. Ever.

Byakuran had been planning on staying out of it, honestly. But then one of the disgusting, mundane fools had dared to raise their hand against Kaa-san and attempt to steal the three children from her. From them.

From _him._

The fishes ate well that night.

* * *

The Varia's arrival coincided with something that Byakuran had, foolishly, overlooked.

The Cervello were in Namimori.

Byakuran was no longer living in the Sawada residence, instead camping out on Death Mountain and training his Sky flames back to their previous power. He had stopped going into the town entirely, Kyo-kun covering his prolonged school absence for him and watching over their group.

The dark, burnt orange danced over Byakuran's fingers from where he huddled in the back of a cave, a cup of tea in his hands as he watched his Sky and Sun face off against Squalo of the Varia them using the surveillance tech Sho-chan and Kyo-kun had gifted him

The cup shattered as he recognized Basil, the CEDEF heir from another life. He was leaning against Sho-chan as the other helped him up.

Byakuran turned away and shut off the screen.

* * *

Byakuran watched the Sun battle from the rooftop.

Each of the members of Tsuna's team had in earpieces that he was connected to - even Reborn, Bianchi, and Shamal. Kyo-kun, Mukuro, and Chrome sat next to him, all of them ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. A thin veil of Mist was more than enough to hide them from even the Cervello's watchful eyes, and the Varia, if they noticed, paid them no attention.

As soon as the Cervello revealed what they had done on Namimori Middle's roof, Byakuran tackled the already moving Cloud to the ground, both Mists lending a hand with twisting vines, tying Kyo-kun down easily.

Then, the Cervello revealed their intention to have both Sho-chan and Ryohei fight as Vongola Sun guardians.

Byakuran stilled, his breath stopped and he turned, slowly. The other three on the roof also went still, watching him cautiously. He took a deep breath, determined not to interfere-

"Hehehe, two on one? Oh well, I suppose it doesn't matter~ Only one's my type, but I'll kill them both all the same!"

His wings snapped open, and he jumped.

Byakuran landed on the cage with a loud crash and rattle, Lightning and Sky flames alike lightning it up and crackling around it. The twisting shadows and lights danced across Byakuran's grin, and the madness in his eyes was enough to make even the Varia flinch back.

"Ara? Kill my Sho-chan?" The purple eyes seemed almost black in the light, and the grin was gone, leaving only a snarl of rage. Byakuran continued, his voice unchanged, and all the more terrifying for its continued happy lilt. "I'll kill you."

"WAIT!" One brave Cervello stepped up, shaking in the face of the deranged Sky. "O-Only one guardian per team has to fight, though all are allowed."

Byakuran's grin twisted back to life as his Flames disappeared. He sent a surge of encouragement down the Flame bond to Ryohei and gave an acknowledging nod to his elements and Sky before taking to the sky and soaring away.

He had gotten what he wanted.

* * *

The next day, when the Cervello prepared to set up the Lightning arena, Byakuran was already there, creeping grin in place as he perched on the roof's fence. The pink haired women gulped and moved on, and Byakuran wondered if they had figured out how he was able to be in two places at once.

When the Varia arrived early, they were noticeably taken aback by his presence. Probably because they had expected him to be the one that had utterly decimated their Lightning forces that they had sent out to kill little Lambo.

(Mukuro and Kyo-kun had promised to save him some for later.)

When the rest arrived, they gave relieved sighs at the presence of their Lightning. Byakuran hummed and drowned out the angry shouts of Iemitsu as he glided over to Lambo, kneeling next to the little boy and holding out his hand.

"Here you go, Byaku-nii!" The white-haired man smiled, ruffling Lambo's hair and picking him up, passing the small boy in cow-print to Tsuna before handing the Vongola Lightning Ring over to the Cervello for inspection.

"Ara? You look a little nervous, Levi-san. Afraid I'm a more capable Lightning than you?" Byakuran eyes were as sharp as his words, and the other man's scowl deepened. Byakuran's laugh was light as the Cervello returned them their rings, and he did not move as the battle began, nor when the umbrellas came out and began to circle around him. Instead, he taunted Levi-A-Than one step closer, the other's metal boot just barely on the wire-

Lightning surged from Byakuran and down his leg, reaching the wire and lighting up the entire structure. Levi-A-Than screamed in pain as the crackling electricity enveloped him, and the lightning strike that would have fueled the other's special move instead struck the main part of the death trap. Byakuran took to the skies before the lightning struck, laughing madly as the other's screams abruptly cut off.

When the light had faded, the Varia Lightning was unconscious on the ground, hair and skin charred.

Byakuran tucked his wings away and dropped from the sky, landing on the unconscious man with a sickening crunch as he chuckled, slipping the ring off and completing the set for the Vongola. Byakuran turned his back on the fuming Varia, passing the ring back to Lambo with a pat on the head.

"Byakuran…" the white haired boy froze, unmoving as Tsuna called his first name for the first time in years. He could feel the distance growing between them, an ache in his chest and Flames that left him hollow. Amethyst eyes closed.

A flare of orange and white, and Byakuran was gone, lost to the night sky. He did not look back. The Cervello would find him either way.

Tsuna and the rest of Vongola went home and, as Byakuran spied through the window, Tsuna and Sho-chan clung to each other and cried. Cried for the loss of their innocence and the empty space between them.

If Byakuran cried with them, there was no one to see it.

* * *

Byakuran did not watch the other Ring Battles, instead returning to his cave in the forest and facing his own, internal battle.

Tsuna's role in the Vongola was growing, and with it was the danger both he and Sho-chan would have to face. Byakuran's Sky was still too weak to shelter them both. The familiar tugging inside him was growing, and he flew away at the break of dawn, leaving Namimori behind.

He had made his decision before he even came to this world. Sho-chan and Tsuna would always leave him, one way or the other. Even they could never accept the insanity that had crept back into his mind, the violence that had always been an inherent part of him.

He looked up at his hands, flying upside down as he held them up to the sky and the light of the sun. Two identical orange rings on his right hand and a vastly different one on his left. Both drenched in copper and red. The liquid dripped down onto his face, leaving behind a bloody handprint and a murmured apology, the taste of copper and river water heavy upon his tongue. Amethyst eyes closed, and his hands dropped.

The Millefiore was waiting.

* * *

Months passed before Byakuran and Tsuna met again. The Arcobaleno trials were ending, and Byakuran stood behind Yuni, their Skies intertwined, and the Funeral Wreaths behind them. They had chosen to hide, pretended not to participate. It was the only reason they were still standing.

Tsuna had gathered all the others against the Vendice, and it was time they joined him.

Tsuna's group was ahead of them, across the street, when his once Sky paused and flared his orange flame as high as it could go. Reborn turned to Tsuna, hand on his gun, and paused when the young boy hesitatingly turned around.

Three pairs of orange eyes met.

Byakuran and Yuni walked out into the middle of the street, unmindful of any who could be watching. Tsuna's steps were even and measured as he walked towards them, completing the triangle.

Their Skies thrummed and were whole.

The wave of orange power washed over the remains of the city, and all their Flames soared together, lighting up even the sunny sky above.

A wave of darkness crashed into them, and there was no time to relish the feeling of completeness that he had _needed_ so desperately for over a decade. The Vendice were even stronger than they had expected, and their strongest were crushed within seconds. No matter how many tries, the unstoppable wall of black and cold burn of Night Flames grew ever closer.

A pained cry stood out from the rest and Byakuran froze. Sho-chan lay motionless in the rubble of a wall, blood dripping from a cut on his head and there was red splattered across his outfit. Tsuna stumbled forward, trying to lift the Sun and move him somewhere safe.

He was too late.

Chains were surging forward, covered in black flames that licked the air like hungry beasts, intent on devouring their prey - on destroying his two brothers. His Sky flames propelled him forward as his wings stretched as wide as they could, covering the two young boys as best he could. Lightning flames danced along him, hardening his body to be stronger than stone. It would not save him, but if he could stop the chains from going through him, then the other two would be fine. Byakuran managed a laugh last as the multiple chains impaled him, ripping apart his beautiful wings and piercing through him.

He had succeeded.

The chains withdrew as his body collapsed on the ground, the familiar tang of copper heavy in the air as blood pooled around him. His Funeral Wreaths would be sheltered under the shared Sky of Yuni and Tsuna, and with his death, Tsuna would find the final catalyst needed to unlock his full potential and become the rival Byakuran had always dreamed of. He smiled. It wasn't only his hands that were red, now.

Yet… even though the others didn't need him anymore… even though he had no role left in this game… why…?

 _"They don't need me anymore… but… oh…_ I _need_ them.

_I don't want to go."_

There was a flare of orange, and the white-clad man trapped inside a boy breathed his last. On his hands were only two rings, and a necklace pressed against his heart.

* * *

The mafia had killed the man that was once his brother, Tsuna knew.

His brother had died before his body, had perhaps died even before Tsuna had met him. The spark that had made the Sky so strong had been tired and drained of its light when they had met, and had slowed its struggles even as it grew, spread and flickered into a bonfire. The mafia had drained all the color, all the life, from Byakuran, and left him cold and pale.

So with Kyoya at his right, Mukuro at his left, and Gokudera and Yamamoto both strong behind him, Tsuna _tore it down._

The Vendice, seeing as they were directly responsible, were first. Imbalanced by the loss of one of his _Skies_ , his _siblings,_ Tsuna's Flames roared out of control, flooding the street and turning everything to stone - including the Vendice. When it was all said and done, only those Tsuna had harmonized with were left standing. A cure for the Arcobaleno curse was revealed by Talbot, but it was pointless when all the known owners of Night Flames had been forever turned into statues. They continued searching, anyway, despite Checkerface's warnings of time running out.

The rest of the mafia was next. Against the combined wrath of the Vongola, Millefiore, Arcobaleno, and Varia, there was not much anyone could do. Vongola's allies fell in line behind them, as did Mafia Island (which, for all that it was so-called neutral territory, everyone knew was really Colonello's.), the English mafias combined with Spanner and Longchamp Naito, and the Triads joined Fon.

The world bowed before them.

There was no crime. If there was, the Foundation - Hibari Kyoya's global Disciplinary Committee - beats it down ruthlessly. Cures for diseases were found at record paces with the joint effort of Mists, lead by Rokudo Mukuro and Dokuro Chrome, and top scientists, led by Verde and the remnants of the reformed Estraneo. Technology and innovations made unbelievable leaps under the guiding hands of Shoichi and Spanner, the two churning out technologies that allowed for unprecedented growth of food, improving the environment, transportation and, of course, the military strength of Vongola. Infrastructure and economy improved worldwide in a steady effort to stamp out poverty, surprisingly enough due to the Varia.

Some even called it a "Perfect World."

Tsuna looked up at the sky during the night and knew that to be false.

* * *

One day, a teenaged boy woke up in a bed that was not his, and in a home that was not his. His hair was black, his clothes were black and, sometimes, the shadowy form of black wings was visible when the morning light hit him just right. The most colorful part of his attire was an orange and silver ring he wore on his right hand.

The boy did not work, and no one knew how he afforded his apartment, small as it was. No one even knew to ask. The boy kept to himself and never spoke if not required to. Sometimes, he would be caught staring at children playing in the park, or at a shelf of sweets in the store. He always left as soon as he was noticed.

Every day as the sun set, the boy would make his way up the California mountains, though no one knew how he managed to walk that far and back. He sprawled atop the Hollywood sign and stared up at the moon, a familiar weight resting against his back.

He opened his hand, and midnight colored flames danced in his palm.

* * *

A brunette in a freshly pressed black suit and orange tie was searching the city for someone, though for whom, the people did not know. But there was something off about him, something that pulled you closer despite everything inside of you screaming to run away and never look back.

It was familiar.

So they directed him towards the sign and told him to wait until night. The short man did as he was instructed, and, upon approaching, saw a figure with eyes trained on the sky and black wings spread behind him.

"...Why haven't you come back… haven't at least let us _know..._?"

"Silly Tsuna-chan. There's no place for someone like me in your Perfect World."

The figure turned and jumped off the sign, landing lightly in a crouch and walking away without looking back.

"...How can a world be perfect without the night sky, its other half?"

Amethyst eyes opened and looked up, watching the orange light creep across the black canvas of the night sky. The figure paused and looked back.

"Ara… you always were more perceptive than I gave you credit for, Tsuna."

* * *

_"Let's dance to music and sing a song all together_

_On my palm_

_Let's dance to music and say goodbye to this world_

_Scatter beautifully_

_Let's dance to music and sing a song all together_

_The new world_

_Let's dance to music and say goodbye to this world_

_All is in this hand."_

-Parade (Byakuran Character Song)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh thank God it's over. DID YOU CATCH THE REFERENCE? ...REFERENCES? Next chapter is probably going to be Xanxus. Thoughts? Reviews encourage the author!


	5. Wrathful Sky, Part One (Atlas Fell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xanxus’ world had not ended in fire, in a sudden explosion.
> 
> His world had been ending for a long time.
> 
> It started when he was five, a little boy who could spark magic to life and comfort himself with light and warmth when he was huddled in the dark of night. It continued when he was given away by his mother, who may have never known what to do with a child in the slums but had tried her best and died without him, his skills in thieving and ability to protect her. 
> 
> He had reached a point of contentment before he discovered his so-called Father’s betrayal and found himself imprisoned within his mind for a decade, only to learn that his “family” had shrunk while he was trapped. (He raged with the knowledge that if he had been free, he could have saved them.) The mafia chipped away at what was left of his Family, despite his and the Decimo’s best attempts. 
> 
> Atlas fell, and with him, the wrathful sky.
> 
> Together, the Skies turned the tides of fate. Xanxus, the last of the Varia, would go back to the past and create a parallel reality, a new world by him and his.
> 
> One where they didn’t just live, but kicked ass.
> 
> (He’d make sure no scum ever dared to think about harming his Family.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, real talk time. I am posting this story on two sites, FFnet and Archive of Our Own. Between both sites, I got two reviews. TWO. Reviews are motivation, guys, and only two reviews? That’s demotivation. Especially when other stories I haven’t touched in literally years over on WattPad got so many new reviews I stopped counting and even my old story Beowulf got more attention than this (it’s being updated next, btw. Eventually. Gokudera is calling me after Xanxus, though...).
> 
> Warnings: Mentioned character death, lots of mentions of blood, surprisingly little gore otherwise, considering what happened with Squalo’s chapter.

He was ten when Nono took him.

Ten, ten, ten. The cursed number that haunted even his name.

But it didn’t start when he was ten. It started when he was seven, and had to hide underneath him and his mother’s broken bed when men from a nearby, low-class Famiglia pounded on the door and demanded money from his mother. And when she didn’t have any, they demanded more than just money.

It started with a broken piece of metal torn from their bed frame, soaked in crimson as a little boy with dead eyes stared at the unmoving bodies before him while his mother sobbed into his shirt.

It started with curses and beatings, with chases through back allies and loaves of bread tucked beneath his shirt and a clenched fist always ready to swing.

It started with a street rat who bore the weight of his world and was powerless to do anything but rage.

The Vongola never understood that.

* * *

Xanxus did not grow up as a privileged mafia heir.

He made his bones at the age of seven, dragging the bodies of scum into a dumpster. (They didn’t even deserve to be trash, but it was the best he could do.)

When he got back to his home, a rundown apartment in the slums barely big enough for both him and his mother with only a broken bed and rags for blankets, he found his mother scrubbing the blood from the floor. He knelt beside her and took the rag from her shaking hands, guiding her to the bed and sitting beside her until she fell asleep.

He washed away the blood himself, scrubbing until his hands were raw and he wasn’t sure if the blood was his or the scum's.

He glanced at the red-and-copper-stained metal and tucked it into a loop in his pants, crimson and all.

Let them see.

* * *

Word spread quickly on the streets.

Soon, everyone had heard of the child who had taken down two mafioso with only a broken metal pole, torn from a bed frame. Gangs sent “requests” and “messengers” for Xanxus to join them, by force if need be, as did some Famiglias. Others came to avenge their comrade, or just to take care of a threat before it could grow.

Xanxus dealt with all of them the same.

His hands dripped red, and there was not an unstained spot on his broken bed leg. It would not have been enough, had one of the mafioso not brought with him a gun, a simple pistol. Xanxus picked it up, observing it apathetically as he used his shirt to rub the blood off the shiny metal, uncaring of the growing crimson puddles and bodies beneath him.

A moan of pain came from somewhere below him, and he took aim, firing instinctively. The recoil jerked him back, a shock of pain traveling down his shoulder and arm that left him aching.

A fire lit behind the black-haired child’s once dead eyes.

Xanxus walked away calmly, a smirk on his face as dark brown eyes bled to red. A pistol was tucked into his waistband, and what little ammo the mafioso had filled his pockets.

A broken piece of metal was left behind, slowly being swallowed up by the rising crimson.

* * *

Xanxus did not scare easily, and he was not afraid to die.

His mother, however, was a different story.

It was only a matter of time before someone figured out that his weak spot was not his life, but his mother’s.

Xanxus paused at the door of his small apartment as muffled sobbing reached his ears. The handle of the pistol was too big for the hands of a child, but he gripped it tightly all the same as the metal warmed at his heated touch and sweaty palms. The door creaked open.

His mother was on her knees, crying softly with a gag in her mouth and a pistol to her head.

(Strangely, Xanxus almost felt betrayed. The pistols were _his_ weapon.)

“Put the gun down, or I’ll shoot.” The voice was not full of false arrogance and annoyance, like most lower-class members. This was the real deal.

Xanxus set the gun down, never once removing his glare from the men in suits that dared to threaten his mother.

He did not remember much of what happened after.

They were there to recruit him into their Famiglia and were intending to use his helpless mother as blackmail. Rage was building inside him, followed by an unfamiliar, blazing warmth. Xanxus bit his tongue and agreed for the sake of the woman that had looked over him and loved him unconditionally, despite her many faults. The man smirked, but before he could speak, one of the grunts behind him decided to act.

“Smart, kid!” The man with a gun scowled at the other but did not interfere. “And if you do betray us, well…” The grunt smirked and struck his mother down with a swift punch. The mafioso moved to kick her, laughing at the way the brunette woman flinched.

His foot hit something and stopped.

The Mafioso's eyed widened as he stared at the small hand gripping his boot and followed it up to meet crimson eyes framed by jet black hair.

“Don’t touch my mother, scum.”

The walls bled red, and Xanxus walked on blood to his mother, guiding her across the red sea and into the empty apartment two floors down as their room smoldered behind him.

He was ten. 

* * *

When Nono came and took Xanxus, it was under the impression that his mother had introduced him for greed, and that the boy had come from an impoverished but still somewhat sheltered life.

Xanxus knew better.

His mother had not done it for money or fame. When had she asked for any? She did it to save him, to remove him from the grasp of those that wanted to recruit him into their bloodied Famiglias or kill him. She did it with the knowledge that she would be left unprotected, and the only target for their vengeance.

When Nono denied the black-haired boy’s request to take in his mother as well, the mafia don did not understand the child’s fierce rage.

In a bedroom filled with extravagance and the finest materials money could buy, Xanxus lied on the floor and cried silent tears into his pillow.

News of his mother’s brutal death reached him within a week.

(Nono did not know how or why the boy had done it, but he found himself needing to replace an entire wing of Vongola mansion before the first week with Xanxus had passed.)

* * *

The rage and blazing heat that had risen inside him when he was ten became a constant in his life, a reminder of what he had lost, and the promise he had sworn.

He would rule this broken world, or destroy it and all the scum on it.

Xanxus gazed into the mirror at the feathers of his mother’s favorite birds that he had painstakingly woven into his spiky hair. His once brown eyes had become the color of freshly spilled blood and would remain so until the day he died.

* * *

“So, this is our new little brother, eh?”

Red eyes glared at the three older boys who stood in the doorway of his room. He stood slowly, clutching the pistols he had been polishing in his small fingers. Xanxus knew how the mafia worked, how the position of the heir was coveted so dearly by so many. It wasn’t uncommon for siblings to take each other out in their quest for power.

The now eleven-year-old boy blinked and froze as a heavy hand landed on his head, not forcing it down as he would expect, but instead ruffling the coarse black locks. “I’m Enrico, your oldest brother!” The owner of the hand grinned broadly, eyes strangely kind despite the air of power the taller man commanded.

“I’m Massimo, the second oldest.” The brunette still leaning against the doorway raised his hand in a wave, and crimson eyes glanced over, evaluating the speaker carefully. The man had a friendly smile on his face and was heavier than one would expect from a mafioso that had to survive on both their wits and athleticism.

“Heya, I’m Federico! And I’m no longer the youngest brother, haha!” The final boy was only a couple years older than Xanxus himself and seemed to bounce rather than walk as he stepped up to Xanxus and swept the younger boy into a hug.

Xanxus immediately struggled in the other’s grasp, uncomfortable with this stranger touching him. Before he could escape, the black-haired boy felt his knees give way as he and Federico collapsed under the weight of their two older brothers tackling them.  Within minutes, the group had descended into a pile of wrestling boys, and Xanxus felt himself chuckling helplessly at the sound of the other’s playful war cries and laughs. Warmth flickered through him, softer than usual, and red eyes widened as an answering rush of heat flared from his three new brothers.

They shared a smile and a moment of friendly silence, relishing in their newly established brotherhood, before descending back into a dog pile of brawling limbs.

* * *

He gained strength and power. Everyone knew of Nono’s youngest, bastard son who blazed with Flames of Wrath and used pistols as though they were a part of him. Whispers spread of him being a natural assassin, cold blooded and with a talent for guns on par with the World’s Greatest Hitman, Reborn. They hailed him as the favored candidate to lead the Vongola.

But he was not chosen as heir. Instead, it was the eldest brother, Enrico who was groomed and destined to take control of the largest mafia Famiglia. Yet Xanxus could not rage against him, not when the older man smiled at him with obvious affection and ruffled his hair despite the younger boy’s dark scowl. Not when the other was so clearly and achingly Family.

His Family grew, and he found something of a kindred soul in a teenager with silver hair, a fierce yell, and a penchant for blood and swords. Xanxus watched the other leave to conquer the Sword Emperor and expected that to be the end.

Instead, the silverette returned with a proud smirk and one less hand, a new sword gripped tightly in his fingers as he bowed to the raging Sky. Together they ruled the Varia, and for all Xanxus’ rage, he knew that his growing Family was important to him.

In the end, though, they were still trash (but not scum). He was Vongola. The best of the best, as determined by his blood. 

* * *

Xanxus sat on the throne in his office, deep inside the Varia Headquarters. He sighed in boredom as red eyes stared out the window, mindlessly loading and unloading his gun instead of working on the stacks of paper steadily increasing on his desk. 

“VOI!!! Shitty Boss, what do you think you’re doing?”

Xanxus turned to sneer at his silver haired Strategic Commander as the younger man barged through the doors, kicking them open forcefully. “What do you think you’re doing, huh? Quit staring out the window and get your ass to the training rooms already!”

Xanxus barely suppressed his shock. “I’m not going to serve anyone weaker than me, hear that? Voi! The Varia Boss has to be the best of the best, and your aim isn’t improving any working on that shit!” The foul-mouthed swordsman scowled as he stomped over to the desk, heaving up a stack of paperwork and charging back out the door.

Xanxus smirked. He and his Rain knew that if there was anything Xanxus didn’t need to work on, it was his aim. Nevertheless, the tall man sighed and stood, making his way down to the training rooms.

A bastard son of the Vongola Don couldn’t afford close friends, and even personal ties with his Guardians were discouraged. But if he could, Xanxus thought he wouldn’t mind having the Sword Emperor as one.

* * *

“Voi! Boss, I know you’re kinda shitty, but you need to get some more Guardians, hear me?”

Xanxus sighed and threw a bottle of scotch at his Rain Guardian without even turning around. The other had been nagging him for months to meet with Varia members from each Flame division in hopes of finding people capable of becoming his Guardians.

“Fine, if it’ll shut your damn mouth!” Xanxus roared as the silverette continued ranting, far too used to dodging alcohol bottles to even pause.

“About time!” Superbi Squalo yelled back before turning and stomping out of the room, slamming the doors behind him and making the room rattle, the chandelier shaking and plaster drifting slowly down.

Xanxus slumped down in his throne, knocking back his last glass of scotch and trying to ignore the way the arms of the chair dug into his side and legs.

How annoying. Hopefully any new Guardians wouldn’t be so loud and uncontrollable.

(Who was he kidding? Anyone compatible with him would have to be just as wild as he was, to not only survive but strive within the grasp of a raging, Wrathful Sky.)

* * *

The representatives of each division stood before him, their troops behind them. Xanxus scowled as he swept a lazy eye over the groups, flaring his Flames in hopes of a response. Just when he was about to declare this “Elite Independent Assassination Squad” beyond useless, two sparks came from within the borders of the estate. One, at the very back of the Sun division and nearly smothered by the surrounding Flames. The other, a flash of Lightning from the grounds outside the manor.

The youngest Vongola heir stalked forward, the crowd parting before him as even the assassins scrambled at the sight of his scowl. Xanxus stopped before a young man, tall and willowy, who had on non-regulation sunglasses. “Oi, trash, take those off.”

The Sun looked up at him before nodding, removing the glasses and revealing two bruised, black eyes. Xanxus eyes the long sleeves – abnormal for a summer this hot – and grabbed an arm, ignoring the wince as the Sky pulled back a sleeve to reveal an arm covered in bruises and marks that certainly weren’t made by the normal sparring and training.

“Trash, are you a Sun or not? Heal these marks already.” The older man blinked at Xanxus in shock, but before he could nod, an officer from the Sun division stepped forward.

“Sir, he is not allowed to heal those marks – they’re a punishment.”

“A punishment for what, scum?” The more observant members of the surrounding assassins stepped back, and Squalo smirked from where he stood by the now-empty throne. If the Boss was calling someone scum, well – bloodshed was almost certain to follow.

“Sir, this Sun is… disgusting.” The Sun in question looked down in shame, and Xanxus felt his Flames begin to stir, rising just below his skin as they called for blood and retribution. “He’s a freak, Sir, we found him looking at women’s clothes and-“ The Sun officer leaned in, whispering the rest of his statement to the Varia Boss as though it was too shameful to even say out loud.

Xanxus straightened after he heard the officer’s words, turning to the downcast Sun next to him. Without sparing the Sun officer a glance, Xanxus pulled out his Flame pistols and fired. The assassin fell to the floor, blood pooling from a smoking hole in the dead man’s head.

“Whatever trash get up to in their own time isn’t any of my business, and it ain’t anyone else’s, either. Understood?!”

“Yes, sir!” the assassins saluted and chanted in unison.

“Oi, trash. If you’re gonna be my Sun, I won’t tolerate you letting anyone push you around like that again, got it?!” The Sun blinked up at Xaxnus, yellow Flames flickering down his arms and up his face, leaving pale skin flawless as he grinned.

“Yes, Boss!” Xanxus smirked at the glint that entered the older Flame user’s eyes, handing the sunglasses back as the eccentric Sun slipped them on and smirked.

“What’s your name, trash?”

“Lussuria, but you can call me Luss-nee~”

Xanxus knew it. All his Guardians were going to be insane.

(He didn’t mind.)

* * *

Leaving Luss with Squalo to get settled into the Sun Wing the Rain and Sky had planned out, Xanxus dismissed the gathered assassins before making his way outside, Flames flaring and flickering as the distant Lightning Flames sparked and crackled in response.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, staining the bright green of the ground with shadows as dead leaves crunched under Xanxus’ steel-toed boots. A flash of Lightning caught his attention and the Wrath Sky looked up, watching clouds seem to gather from nowhere and circle over a clearing in the distance.

Lighting his pistols with burning Flames, Xanxus used them to propel himself above the trees, flying over the forest on the outskirts of the Varia grounds until he dropped down abruptly, landing on a sturdy oak branch and watching a tall man stand in the middle of the clearing, Lightning charged umbrellas spread out around him. The assassin threw the umbrellas up in the air and lit his Flames, drawing actual lightning from the sky to strike the objects.

The lightning sparked and formed a circle between the umbrellas, and Xanxus saw what was about to happen just a second before realization and terror flashed across the Lightning’s face. The red eyed man sighed, adjusted the setting on his pistols and fired a shot just moments before the lightning gathered by the umbrellas shot towards the center of the circle – exactly where the other man was.

* * *

Levi-A-Than stared in horror at the crackling lightning racing towards him. However, before the electricity could even strike, Levi felt himself get hit by what felt like a wall of Stormy Sky Flames, using his Lightning to harden himself just in time before being knocked out of the lightning ring from the blunt force of the Flames.

The spiky haired man stared at the circle of grass in front of him that was charred to a crisp. He pushed himself up on shaking legs, frowning as he tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong that time. While it was undoubtedly his most powerful attempt yet with this new technique, it also would have killed him if those Flames hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and knocked him away.

“Oi, trash.”

Levi froze in shock, slowly looking up to where the voice had originated. His sharp, beady brown eyes widened as they caught sight of a figure half hidden in the trees, standing firmly on one of the highest branches as though it should be grateful for getting the chance to support his polished black boots. With long, colorful feathers and a raccoon tail threaded through spiky, pitch black hair and fiercely glowing red eyes, Xanxus di Vongola looked nothing less than a vengeful, wild god of old.

Levi’s Lightning Flames surged as a raging sea of Storm-tinted Sky washed over him, their Flames intertwining and roaring as one.

“Boss! I, Levi-A-Than, will serve you until my dying breath!”

Xanxus withheld a sigh as the tall Lightning assassin fell to one knee on the ground below, strange hair styles and all. Scratch insane, his Guardians were downright _weird_.

* * *

They were deep in enemy territory, investigating a Famiglia suspected of human trafficking – focusing on children. Squalo was strangely silent at his side, the Rain crouched low behind the fallen pillar they were using for cover while Levi launched a frontal assault with his Lightning and Lussuria hung behind, waiting for a chance to dash forward and attack with his Muay Thai or heal an injury.

Storm clouds rumbled in the Sky above them, and Xanxus heard Squalo mutter a disparaging comment about not needing the physical representation of his element right now because he just got his hair done, thank you very much. Unlike his overly-proud partner, Xanxus was not ashamed to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness and charge his guns in preparation to continue the attack. (It was supposed to be a reconnaissance only mission, but, well, no plan survived contact with the enemy. Or the highly aggressive, bloodthirsty Varia Elite, for that matter.)

Suddenly, screams erupted from one of the buildings up ahead. While a normal sound to hear whenever the Varia were in the vicinity, it was unexpected nonetheless. After all, they hadn’t even reached that building yet. Squalo and Xanxus traded suspicious side-glances before the world erupted in a blaze of crimson.

Storm Flames blasted out the windows from the distant building, and the screams of pain and horror multiplied. Xanxus felt his own Flames roar in response, and a smile dripping with promises of blood crawled onto his face.

The Wrath Sky stood, dropping all pretenses of caution and subtlety to don a cloak of raging Sky Flames, his pistols blazing as he took to the sky and blasted ahead. He could hear the furious cries of his violent Rain as the swordsman raced after him on the ground below, Lussuria easily catching up as his Lightning lumbered behind, though his Flames raced ahead just the same as the others.

The steel-reinforced concrete walls of the Famiglia’s main building were no match for Xanxus as he crashed through, shaking the rock dust and plaster from his hair before surging forward, filling the panicking mafiosos in front of him with Flame bullets.

“Ushishishishi…”

Haunting, crazed laughter drifted through the halls, echoing endlessly as the walls and ceiling dripped bloody red and blazing crimson. Xanxus stalked forward, paying no mind to the mafioso fleeing from his bullets nor the warm blood soaking his leather boots with each step, the splashes causing the red to coat not just his shoes but also his pants. Blood dripping down from the ceiling fell onto his leather jacket, staining the black with spots of red and brown.

Xanxus came to a stop as he found the source of the cackling, barely noticing his Rain, Sun, and Lightning falling in line behind him. Before the red eyed Sky was a young boy, no older than nine at best, with a crooked crown and light blonde hair that fell over his eyes. A wide smile split the child’s face into a Cheshire grin, and barely any pale skin was visible behind the splashes of red that covered him from head to toe.

“Ushishishi… what’s this? A new play toy for the prince?”

Xanxus frowned, firing a warning shot before the berserker brat could take another step forward. The boy’s Storm Flames roared as a result, and Xanxus didn’t hesitate to swamp them with his own Stormy Sky. The two Flames fought for dominance, and a shield of Rain separated the two from the rest of the Varia thanks to Squalo’s quick thinking, containing the damage caused by the violent struggle.

Before the two could finish their power play, the Stormy Flame users were interrupted by the sound of frantic splashes and pounding feet. Looking up, the two saw that they were surrounded by mafiosos, as they had met in an intersection between four hallways. Not exactly the best place to face an ambush.

“Prove to the Prince that you’re not a peasant, and I’ll give you the honor of being my Sky.” Xanxus smirked at the brat’s words, surging his Flames down the hallways to his left and right and riddling them with the machine-gun setting on his pistols. His other Guardians had already started clearing out the hallway behind him, and the boy in front of him cackled again before relentlessly tearing down the last remaining hallway, knives flying around him in a symphony of clanging steel and wires.

Xanxus watched in appreciation as the Storm brat completely decimated the troops of scum, dancing in their blood and painting everything bright crimson. The boy, while insane, was undoubtedly a battle genius. “You’re not so bad, trash.”

“Ushishishi, it seems you’re not a peasant, after all. Prince Belphegor wouldn’t mind joining a King as wrathful and powerful as you.”

Their Flames intertwined seamlessly, and the Storm in his Sky Flames increased even more with the addition of Xanxus’ newest Guardian. Xanxus charged his gun and fired, watching as the entire hallway disintegrated from the force of the blast.

“Ushishishi…!”

“Amazing, Boss!”

“Wow, fancy firepower~”

“Ugh, shitty boss! Don’t cause me any more paperwork from that!”

Xanxus smirked.

When news drifting through the mafia about a battle genius, a prodigy child, called the Bloody Prince reached Xanxus’s ears, the Varia Boss laughed madly and tossed the Varia Storm Officer uniform at the equally insanely cackling Storm brat.

* * *

Xanxus knocked back another shot of Vodka, slamming the small glass down before picking his scotch back up and waving the bartender off. Red eyes peered sightlessly into the swirling amber as his Flames flickered around him.

For months, his Flames had been restless, stirred up by the flickering of Mist that danced around the edges of Xanxus’ range. His Mist was somewhere near, and their Flames had been engaged in a courting dance since the first time they brushed together.

“Muu, how good is the pay for a Varia Elite officer?” Xanxus smirked and shook his head as a cloaked figure floated up next to him, an unmistakable indigo pacifier around the other’s neck.

The Sky tipped back the last of the scotch, half incredulous as his Flames finally harmonized with the Arcobaleno’s next to him.

“Better than you deserve, after all that taunting these past months.” Xanxus stalked out of the bar, not surprised when the floating figure drifted after him sedately. When the Arcobaleno was still with him upon entering the Varia mansion, Xanxus just gestured to the Mist Wing and watched the cloaked baby disappear down the corridor.

“Muu, the name is Mammon.” The voice drifted down the hallway even as the other – man? woman? – walked through an open door, having it close with a creak behind them. Dramatic trash.

For a brief moment, Xanxus pondered waking his Rain up to alert him to the new addition, but decided against waking the loudmouth and just went to bed.

“VOOOIIIII! Shitty boss, since when the hell did you have a Mist?”

Xanxus sighed and shot a blast of Wrath Flames behind him at the open door, hearing the curses of his Rain as the silverette barely dodged the blow. Maybe he should have just told him last night, after all.

* * *

Over a year passed before Squalo confronted Xanxus about his lack of Cloud Guardian.

“Oi, you ever gonna complete the set, or what? We can’t leave that bastard Ottabio in charge of the Cloud division forever. Something about him doesn’t seem right.” Xanxus threw a bottle of whiskey at the Rain on reflex, nailing the silverette in the head and ignoring the muttered cursing.

“I already had a Cloud. Don’t expect me to get another, trash.” Xanxus closed his eyes and for a second, his mother’s face flashed before his eyes. Really, how stupid had his Father been to miss an Active Guardian bond between him and his mother? A Cloud bond, no less.

The Rain pulled out a chair, collapsing into it and putting his feet on the polished wood of Xanxus’ desk even as the Sky threw a crystal tumbler at the swordsman. Squalo grabbed the thrown glass easily, reaching over and snatching Xanxus’ bottle of rum and pouring some into the cup before slamming the alcohol bottle back down.

“So, is the set complete, then?”

Xanxus withheld a sigh as he felt for his bonds, tracing them through his Flames and pausing as he noticed a tugging in them, a need for one more bond with a distinctly Misty tint. “No, one Mist left.”

Squalo smirked, taking a sip of the rum and tossing his silver hair out of his face. “Collecting all seven sins then, huh Boss? You as Wrath, Levi as Envy, Bel as Sloth, Mammon as Greed, Luss as Lust, and myself as Pride. Only Gluttony left.”

“We are the Varia after all. Don’t sound so surprised, trash.”

* * *

Xanxus’ hands shook as he stared at the words written in one of Nono’s personal journals. He was just trash – _scum_ – that the old man had taken pity on. His mother had died for a lie. The Vongola, the Family that he had grown to love, would never be his. The Varia would not follow a worthless orphan. They were Quality, and he… he was just a street rat that had danced to the tune of his Master without ever recognizing the strings that controlled and chained him.

The book turned to ash in his hands.

If that was the case, he’d just have to destroy this world after all.

* * *

Xanxus gathered the Varia Elite, confident with their strength behind him. They did not hesitate, did not question his sudden desire to take over the Vongola by force. Why would they, when all the mafia considered him to be the perfect candidate for the next Don? To them, it had been a matter of when, not if.

Yet it all fell apart, and he was pitied yet again.

The old man didn’t even have the decency to kill him, as befitted the loser. Instead, the Vongola Nono sentenced him to a fate worse than death, and Xanxus found himself trapped inside his own mind, unable to move.

Unable to do anything but rage in silence, drowning inside his head.

When he was freed ten years later by the Cervello, they offered him a deal.

Test the son of Sawada Iemitsu, the last remaining Vongola heir, and they would not reveal the secret of his blood.

Stricken with grief at the loss of his brothers and motivated only by the rage that had steadily festered inside him, Xanxus agreed.

(Anything to keep what was _his_. The Varia must never know.)

* * *

Xanxus could only watch as the man who had handed him the world fell to the jaws of his namesake, disappearing under the suddenly still water. He could only laugh as the rage burned him up from the inside and threatened him with madness.

What was one more Family member gone?

(Soon, he could join them. After all, the loser died in the mafia, and Nono would not make the same mistake twice.)

* * *

Xanxus’ Flames spiked and swirled. He could only listen with wide eyes as his Rain – his _alive_ Rain – confessed that he had been there that night, that he had known Xanxus was not Vongola by blood. Had known and worked to free him anyway, ruling the Varia and preparing for his return. His Guardians stood beside him despite his origin, even the blood-obsessed Prince Belphegor.

Something settled inside him as he returned to the battle against the tiny, brunette boy, and saw the same determination to win that burned inside him. Even so, he would win the Ring Battles, no matter what.

After all, if he won the battles, then it wouldn’t matter if the Vongola Rings rejected him.

There would be no losers if each won half of the war.

* * *

When the Varia left Namimori, only Xanxus and Tsunayoshi recognized the foolishness of Vongola. In trying to avoid a mafia led by Xanxus and the bloody Varia, they had handed it to a child who would not burn the world, but would and could reverse the flow of time and the earth itself for his Family if need be.

Xanxus and Tsunayoshi met each other’s gazes as the Varia turned to leave, both sides battered and exhausted but more united ( _more powerful_ ) than ever. In Tsunayoshi, Xanxus saw the same possessiveness of what was _his_ , the same ability and willingness to rage against fate and the world itself in order to protect what was his and reach his goals. In Xanxus, Tsunayoshi saw the same blazing passion and love that burned him up from the inside out, draining his life even as it fueled his every thought and action.

The two shared a glance, and swore not to reveal the other’s secret. Their Flames sung in harmony and withdrew with none the wiser.

Dame-Tsuna and street-rat Xanxus had more in common than anyone realized.

They were Family, after all.

* * *

United with Tsunayoshi as Vongola, Xanxus as Varia, and Basil as CEDEF, the Vongola Famiglia seemed stronger than ever. Tsunayoshi and Xanxus knew better.

Sometimes, the weak won battles, even if they lost the war. Xanxus could only watch as the Varia dwindled down, members going off on missions and never returning. He raged, destroying entire Famiglias with the controlled blaze of Decimo Tsunayoshi behind him, sanctioning his actions to the Vindice and watching over him.

In turn, he raged with Decimo when an enemy Famiglia sent them a video of Lambo’s death at their hands. Yet no matter how many they killed, there was always another, and their Family continued shrinking.

It took years, decades, but one-day Xanxus and Tsunayoshi stood together at the top of the mafia and found themselves all but alone. The Varia Elite were gone, missing or dead, and the rest had joined the main family to fill the ranks of the lost. Tsunayoshi’s Guardians had also suffered, losing not only Lambo, but also the Arcobaleno, Ryohei, Haru, Kyoko, I-Pin, Fuuta, Takeshi, and Bianchi, as well as Decimo’s own parents.

They mourned their losses together as brothers, misfits in the mafia with too much love and too much rage to be considered normal humans. Their Flames blazed and intertwined to the point that even if one should die, the other would still hold a piece of their Flames within them.

* * *

Xanxus stood in the middle of the gathering, meeting the eyes of Tsunayoshi across from him.

Tsunayoshi and his Guardians, all with their Vongola rings, stood around him in a circle.  Three pillars stood in place of the missing members, rimmed in emerald, gold, and topaz to represent their elements. Atop each pillar was each respective Guardian’s ring, retrieved from the murderers with extreme prejudice.

All other members of Vongola and their allies were gathered as well, each Flame type behind their matching Flame Guardian, lending them their power. Byakuran and Dino stood behind Tsunayoshi, each with a hand on Decimo’s small shoulders.

The Vongola rings were part of the Tri-Ni-Set, and represented the present. With the aid of Byakuran, whose Mare ring represented the past, and enough Flames, it was theorized that they could send one Flame User to the past, to the first life-changing event that they experienced.

A Sky was their best chance, and as the one with the least to lose and most to gain, Xanxus had been more than willing to volunteer.

The mansion grounds lit up with eight flames, the black Night Flames forming a ring around the blazing rainbow and fueling them as the others were sucked into the Vongola rings. Even without three Guardians, the mafioso substitutes proved to be enough to light each ring with the aid of the black flames.

Reality ripped around him, and Xanxus fell with the weight of Vongola on him, and the familiar burn of Tsunayoshi’s Flames inside him.

* * *

He landed in a puddle of blood, seven years old and a broken metal pole in his hand - the ripped off leg of a rickety old bed. It clattered to the ground, and Xanxus buried his face in his mother’s hair as she sobbed in fear and heartbreak, clutching him tightly as her newly Active Cloud Flames reached for his own blazing Sky. 

This time, he would protect what was his, and kill anyone who stood in his way. 

He took the bodies to a back alley and burned them to ash, scattering the remains before doing the same to any remaining evidence, careful to hide his Wrath Flames from his mother. When his mother was asleep and everything taken care of, Xanxus stared at his reflection in a shard of glass.

One eye was his usual crimson red, and the other a familiar, blazing orange.

He threw his head back and laughed.

Tsunayoshi’s Flames thrummed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got done for six reasons:
> 
>  
> 
> 1) I am writing this story because of internal motivation, not external (though external does help).
> 
> 2) My living KHR muse who has been with me since before this story was thought up, Byakuran Phantomhive!
> 
> 3) My outstanding beta, OperaEagle IcelynLacelett!
> 
> 4) The ever amazing wolfsrainrules (you know who they are) who has listened to my ranting very patiently.
> 
> 5) One of my previous reviewers, a guest from FFnet, requested I write about Xanxus or Belphegor. Bel’s characterization is escaping me, but I am more than willing to fulfill their desire for Xanxus.
> 
> 6) And last but not least, Archive of Our Own’s members, Witch_of_Perception and Ceridawn, who did this amazing thing called reviewing!
> 
>  
> 
> Now then… What did you like? What did you not like? Who do you want to see next? TALK TO ME, PEOPLE.
> 
> We’re gonna try something from chapter three again since it seemed to somewhat work. AT LEAST FIVE REVIEWS FOR UPDATE. That means at least TWENTY-TWO, because my replies to your reviews don't count, and I reply to EVERYONE.


	6. Wrathful Sky, Part Two (Italy is Catholic and Roman, not Greek. Who gives a damn about Atlas?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was once a man called Atlas who bore the weight of his world on his shoulders. His rage held him up and tainted the sky a wrathful red that swept across the entire land, destroying everything in its wake. Others came to help hold the weight of their world, but it proved too much and the man was alone once again, tired and hurting with only rage keeping him standing.
> 
> Another man, who had visited once as a boy, stepped before the one referred to as Atlas, and, with an army behind him, lifted the world from the broken man and returned the sky to up above where it belonged. His Flames surged and roared to the heavens, burning anyone that stood in his way. No one knew who he was (yet). Most of his people hadn't even been born (yet).
> 
> Xanxus smirks, and the world bleeds red. This time, he'll do it right from the beginning, and with an army behind him.
> 
> (Dual colored eyes shone brightly in the night, and the sky returned itself up above. This is not an ancient myth. This is Xanxus' time, and he'll burn anyone who stands in his – their – way.)
> 
> Even the world itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got reviews~ And then I didn't update quickly. TT_TT Sorry, everyone. I ended up having surgery with a several-week-long recovery period, have been sick thrice, injured my wrists twice, and had school start. I'll do better this time! Though a new KHR story might be coming out, so keep an eye open for that. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed; you made my day and helped encourage me to continue this story.
> 
> Also: happy birthday, Xanxus! This is for you. I was going to make it more depressing and have you fail a lot, but it's your birthday. I'll make that a spin-off instead…
> 
> Also, this is… a lot of headcanon. Like, A LOT. I was gonna make it more canon, but that way leads to realistic levels of death, violence, and depression. And since this is for Xanxus' birthday, let's make our favorite raging psychopath happy for once.
> 
> It's a little late, but I technically finished writing it in time, just not posting it. Though in my attempt to make this as on time for Xanxus' birthday as possible, this is not edited. At all. I'll probably come back and edit it later but in the meantime...
> 
> Warnings: Blood, mentions, of torture, Varia levels of violence and cussing, reluctant discussion of feelings, Dino wormed his way in somehow I don't even know and then he and Squalo brought everyone else with them
> 
> ...Have I ever even included this? Whatever. Just in case - I do not own Katekyou Hitman Reborn. I will never own KHR. The disclaimer is done now and forever.

* * *

 

_"Exhaust burning, the shape also had stopped, frightened voice, the scenery that becomes ashes_

_The ferocity flame rise the shouts of anger_

_Fist burned with anger warps the world_

_Blazing anger controls everything_

_The flame held in this hand: raging, whirling world destruction"_

-FLAMING RAGE (Xanxus character song)

* * *

Xanxus was seven years old. He was a street brat with nothing but his mother and the blood that dripped from his hands.

Xanxus was sixty-six years old and had everything he ever wanted. All he had to do was reach out and take it. He sighed from where he was kneeling on the floor, having kept up the pretense of cleaning the blood until his mother fell asleep. A thread of Stormy Sky Flames flickered out and burned the blood, disintegrating it through Storm and removing any lingering stain from the wood through Sky and its harmony factor.

The boy – man – stood and made his way to the tattered bed, where his mother shifted in a restless sleep. Burning eyes softened, and a thread of orange – the purest Sky Flames Xanxus had ever produced – reached out carefully to his mother's Cloud, and soothed the restless Flames until his mother fell deeper into slumber.

Carefully, Xanxus lay on the bed next to her, feeling his heart harden (screech, cry, roar, bleed) at the exhaustion painting his mother's face, the dull brown strands of hair that had once shown tints of purple, the age and stress lines that formed a map of her life on his mother's face, the feel of her ribs sticking out beneath his hand, and the harshness of her skin.

More Sky Flames leaked from him, and, with Tsunayoshi's Flames guiding his own, sank into his mother's skin. The difference was slight, but to someone who had been the top assassin in the world for decades, it was obvious. His mother would always bear the scars of her past, just as he did. But they would no longer hurt her.

Xanxus would make sure of that.

* * *

 

Technically, Xanxus had time. Nono hadn't found him for three more years, and Enrico's death wouldn't be for another seven. However, Xanxus was not a patient man. He refused to wait so long.

Xanxus stood before the door of his apartment, which he had moved his mother into after running enough odd jobs under different mafiosos to afford it.

The door was unlocked.

His Flames surged angrily beneath his skin, and Tsunayoshi's Flames thrummed in return. _'Inside. Threat. Mother. Kill. Burn.'_  Hyper Intuition from the Brat Boss mixed with Xanxus' own killer instinct whispered in the back of his head, and Xanxus was all too willing to comply.

Calmly, Xanxus lifted his boot and kicked the already unlocked door so hard it fell off its hinges and hit a mafioso in the face. (Scum, can't even dodge.) The people inside stiffened in surprise, and piercing eyes focused on his mother's form.

His heartbeat raced as he stepped inside, ignoring the shifting, suddenly unsure mafiosos as he knelt before his mother.

Xanxus had been in this situation once before. Now, it had happened even earlier – he was only eight, not ten – despite his attempts to prevent it. Was this how it would be? Were some events fated, inevitable?

No, he refused. Xanxus refused. He would  _not let that happen, even if he had to burn down the whole world._

Multicolor Flames surged from him brightly burning orange surging outwards towards the now-panicking mafioso while softer Flames, the color of natural fire, swirled around him and his mother, shielding them from harm.

"Xanxus…" a quiet whisper reached his ears, and the young boy reached out, cradling his mother in his child-sized arms.  _'Reach. She is yours.'_  The almost-voice purred as Xanxus reached out with Tsunayoshi's Flames towards his mother, feeling something give way before them. Brilliant purple Flames flowed into his own, multiplying them and the destruction until nothing was left but the burnt edges of the room.

The next morning, dull brown eyes (tinted with purple) shone with tears, and Xanxus' mother hugged him tightly to herself before she hurried out of the small, charred room with the excuse of meeting someone about the damaged.

It felt like a goodbye.

Xanxus knew it wasn't.

* * *

 

Xanxus looked up at Nono and could tell exactly when the mafia don noticed his dual colored eyes. The old man stiffened, and for a moment, his surprise, worry, and thoughts flickered across his face for all to see.

"Xanxus, show him," his mother encouraged, and something inside him broiled at the judging glares of Nono's guards towards her, the way Timoteo simply dismissed and looked down on her.

So, Xanxus let it out.

Brilliant Flames blossomed before him, sweeping up his shoulders and making his hair flutter in the breeze cast off by the intense heat. The mafioso before him stepped back in shock, and Xanxus' Flames snapped forward like a wolf taunting and testing its prey.

A brush of Cloud Flames against his own, and Xanxus let the Wrath and Transcendent Sky Flames die down to simmer beneath his skin, ready to attack if need be. Nono stepped forward, arranging his face to appear kind and friendly as he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Xanxus' mother cut him off.

"That means he's your son, doesn't it?" Something in the air shifted, and tension skyrocketed between his mother – his brave, strong, somewhat mad but still trying so hard mother – and Nono as the two locked eyes. "I've seen you summon similar orange Flames before. I can't remember meeting you at the right time, but it's been eight years."

The old man looked noticeably taken aback before he nodded warmly and smiled down at Xanxus, letting his own Sky Flames free. "Yes, he is my son."

Xanxus, all of eight (of sixty-seven) remembered the last time he had heard those words. Nono had been dying, ill of old age, and had meant it genuinely. This man before him, who said that phrase so confidently despite his fear of the unknown threat, was not the same. Xanxus knew that, had expected it – but to be back to where he had been so, so many years before, to be expected to be awed and pleased by the discovery of his so-called father – it  _enraged_  him

"Liar." The word was a growl in his throat, and Nono took a step back even as his mother tightened her hand on his shoulder in both fear and love. "Liar! LIAR." It came out as a roar, and Xanxus' Flames echoed it.

Nono looked down at the boy and saw one eye blazing the purest orange he had ever seen, Flames flickering around half of his head to form a distorted shape caught between horns and a halo. Hyper Intuition. The boy had Hyper Intuition – a trait found only in Primo's line. He had just tried to fool someone with Hyper Intuition. It was… humbling.

"No, you're not," Timoteo tried again, stepping forward despite the tensing of his men. The mixed Sky Flames before him backed away slowly, still simmering and bristling with rage. "But I'd like you to be."

Abruptly, the Flames cut off with no warning. Nono nearly staggered, and the boy (who looked rather like Vongola Secondo, now that the don thought about it) smirked up at it him.

"That's more like it."

* * *

After weeks of meetings, Nono had finally managed to get the child to accept his offer of adoption. But only on one condition.

"My mother comes with, or no deal."

Timoteo nearly sighed in frustration. Couldn't the boy see that she was merely using him?

"I know what you're thinking." Internally, Nono cursed Hyper Intuition in every language he knew. (And judging by the sudden smirk, the boy could even tell that.) "I'll make it simple for you, old man. She's my Cloud."

Hazel eyes widened. "How do you…?"

The wild boy simply smirked, standing from the table and walking away.

"I'm Xanxus."

And that was the only explanation Nono would ever receive.

(For anything. Including why there were trainees hiding under his desk, knives in the hallway, and a tea set on the roof. Surprisingly, Nono found that he didn't really mind. Eventually.)

* * *

Once more, Xanxus gazed into the mirror as he cut his hair, watching it return to its familiar spiky shape instead of the longer style he had adopted while on the streets. Reaching down, he threaded familiar feathers through his hair – reds and oranges and blues, the colors he had chosen later in life, rather than the crimson and raccoon tail he had first worn.

Xanxus made the same promise from the first time he wore the feathers that draped down his back and marked him as a phoenix, as something more than human that could only belong in the wild and the sky.

He would save his family and fix this broken world or burn it down in the process.

* * *

Xanxus' meeting with his brothers went much the same as it did in his last life, surprisingly. The only major difference was their height. Even though he wasn't blood, they accepted him all the same.

Carefully, Xanxus picked his way out of the pile of limbs and made sure not to wake the sleeping boys. He remembered the devastation at their loss, at exiting the ice only to find they had been killed – horribly – during his imprisonment. This time… This time he would save them.

Though first, he'd make damn sure that they could save themselves. They'd be Quality by the time he was through.

* * *

Nono entered his office to find three of his sons peering at him from behind his desk. "Enrico, Massimo, Federico – what are you doing?" The don grinned warmly, unable to be anything but amused as the three immediately made shushing noises at him.

"Hiding."

"Why?" Considering they were supposed to be in combat training, Nono was honestly a bit confused. Usually, the three would take any excuse to escape etiquette lessons and train.

"Because they're being damn wimps, that's why. Come on trash, back to work." The three scrambled as Xanxus stalked into the room – from the window, no less – and fled screaming out a mix of apologies and curses.

"…Xanxus."

"Yeah? What do ya want, old man?" Nono breathed in deeply and counted back from ten.

"I'll let the training go because you know as well as I what kind of world we live in and are helping them survive." Dual colored eyes shifted away slightly, and if Nono didn't know better, he'd say the boy was embarrassed. "But why and how did you enter through the window when we're on the fourth story – and I know that you didn't climb it."

"I'm Xanxus," the boy tossed over his shoulder and  _leaped back out the window._  Nono gave up and sighed. This was not what he had been expecting when he met with the boy's mother. And judging by the amused feel of Cloud Flames somewhere nearby, she knew it and didn't regret a thing.

(Really, he didn't either. But that still didn't explain nine-year-old boys apparently flying through windows.)                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

* * *

 

"You… want… to go to school."

"Mafia School."

"You're already stronger than any student there. Why?"

Xanxus grunted, shifting his eyes towards the window where rain had started to fall.

Nono's eyes widened. Had the boy already sensed one of his Elements? Then… "Good luck, my son."

Red and orange eyes snapped back to Nono, who simply smiled and handed over the completed enrollment paperwork. Xanxus grabbed it and swept out of the room. The next day, the head of a rivaling Famiglia that had been causing problems was found charred to the bone. Nono sighed and shook his head, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

"You're welcome, Xanxus."

* * *

Squalo stared up at the ceiling from where he sat in class, tipping the chair back and resting his feet on the desk instead of paying attention to the teacher. (He already knew it, anyway.) Storm-colored eyes glanced towards Dino Chiavarone, who was frantically attempting to keep up.

"Tch." The silver-haired teenager frowned in thought. He was… friendly, of sorts, with Dino, and for all his faults, the other boy was a powerful Sky. His Family had been pressuring him to bond with the other, as everyone knew that Reborn was being hired to train the blonde.

And whomever Reborn trained became the leaders of the next generation.

But Dino… Dino wasn't _his_  Sky, Squalo was sure. Perhaps he could be, in time, but… there was another. Someone whose Flames were so strong that they made his own sing with bloodlust despite having never met, despite the distance between them. Though lately, his Flames had been more and more restless…

The door slammed open, and Squalo shot to his feet and dodged as a can of soda raced towards his head.

"VOI! What the Hell, huh?" The class collectively winced at Squalo's volume and grating voice, but the newcomer just smirked.

Dual-toned Flames washed the room, and the other students (save Dino, interestingly enough) trembled under the pressure. Squalo's Rain surged forward, and sharp eyes widened as the feeling of Harmony swept throughout the room.

Suddenly, the purer thread of orange tightened around Squalo, and he almost fell to his knees as memories crashed into him. Memories of swords and assassinations, of leather outfits and paperwork, of days spent lazing in the sun and hot springs, of war and victory and –"

Squalo straightened slowly.

"Been a while, shitty boss."

Squalo smirked as Xanxus' eyes widened before the other threw his head back and roared with laughter, coming forward. The classmate on Squalo's right scrambled from his desk as Xanxus threw his bag on it, claiming the seat on his own.

Xanxus reached forward, grabbing Squalo's spiky hair and tugging on the ends, a fond smirk on his face. To anyone else, it looked like the spare Superbi heir was being taunted by the youngest of the Vongola brothers. To Squalo, it was a sign of affection – one that had started after he grew out his hair. Xanxus' way of telling him that he remembered, too.

"Should have known the Brat Boss's Flames would do something." The two future-travelers shared a moment of commiserating silence at the sheer impossibleness of Sawada Tsunayoshi before a thread of Sky, not angry like Xanxus', but a different kind of wild, like freedom and wind, brushed against theirs, snapping into harmony with them despite the impossibility of two Skies bonding.

Both assassins turned towards Dino Chiavarone as the boy staggered, clutching his head before grinning up at them. "What was that about my little brother's Flames, Xanxus?"

Xanxus smirked and walked out of the class, knowing that the two were following. "We have a lot to catch up on, Bucking Bronco, Sword-Shark."

Whispers filled the classroom behind them. By the end of the day, two new people had joined the ranks of named hitmen. More importantly, they were said to associate with the most feared member of the Mafia – maybe even more than the Vendice – who had burned countless Famiglias to the ground and trained an army that was loyal to him over even their own Family, the Vongola. The Wrath Sky, Xanxus di Vongola.

* * *

After much discussion, the three newly bonded mafioso found a possible explanation for why their Flames returned, while Xanxus' other bonded - his mother and brothers - were still clueless about the Future That Wouldn't Be.

The simple answer was to look at the cause of the memory's return in the first place - Tsunayoshi's Flames, not Xanxus'. Between the overexposure to time travel and harmony of a Transcendent Sky, it was possible to restore a person to what Flames believe they should be. The trio decided to simply be grateful that it was only their memories and not bodies that changed. After all, Dino and Xanxus had been old men, and Squalo was in his mid-fifties in the other timeline.

The reason that Tsunayoshi's Flames hadn't restored Xanxus' brothers and mother was that the Flames didn't recognize the others; they had no perception of what they should be because all had been long dead by the time Tsunayoshi was born.

Though, that led to the discussion of a different problem.

"If your brothers are still alive, there would be no reason for my otouto to become Vongola don, or even be introduced to the mafia in the first life. He'd live his entire life Sealed, dying from the inside out as a civilian if it weren't for the deaths of the blood Vongola heirs." Squalo frowned at Dino's words, and Xanxus grunted in agreement, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey he always had hidden somewhere on him (Flames did wonders on healing alcohol poisoning, and he was a grown man, dammit. He'd drink as much as he wanted whenever he wanted.)

"I'm their Sky," Xanxus stated after a beat of silence, and Squalo choked on the soda he was drinking before throwing the can at his boss in retaliation for surprising him. Xanxus shot it away with a burst of Wrath Sky flames from his finger and pointedly ignored Dino's exasperated sigh (though the blonde had an amused grin pulling at his lips, so Xanxus didn't buy the others act one bit. He was just as insane as the rest of them, the Bronco just knew how to hide it better.)

"And Tsunayoshi and I are shared Skies." Dino nodded, as it had been common knowledge by the time Xanxus traveled back to the past that the two Vongola Skies had the most perfect harmony seen. Squalo on the other hand, threw his water bottle this time.

"Voi! Since when?!" The sword-trash continued his ranting, and Xanxus took a drink from the bottle after catching it, throwing it back to the Rain who caught it and kept right on ranting.

"...After your death." Squalo fell silent as Xanxus looked to the side, and Dino took the opportunity to slip out of the room. "You were the last to die, and had been by my side for decades. Even through the Zero Point ice, your Flames were bound so tightly to mine and so strongly that I could still feel them. When I thought I lost you during the Varia Battles, I'd already been half insane with grief and rage. When I lost you a second time, I almost lost myself as well."

Xanxus continued scowling up at the ceiling, pretending to ignore his Rain as Squalo stood and walked over to kneel before the Wrath Sky, gripping one scarred hand fiercely. He was a grown man, dammit. He could talk about feelings. "Brat Boss… he was there. And he understood, and our Flames had been courting each other since the end of the Ring Battles. The loss of the last of my Guardians pushed me over the edge into harmonization, and that was that."

The two remained that way as seconds ticked into minutes until nearly an hour had passed. "Bossu." Xanxus looked down at Squalo, who had remained kneeling as though swearing loyalty to his King. The Rain looked up at his Sky and smirked even while continuing the deadly seriousness required in a Quality assassin. "I swear no one will cut my hair until the day you die."

Xanxus smirked back, and their Flames thrummed in resolution.

* * *

In another time, an older-but-younger Xanxus had looked down at the package sent by a rival Famiglia. Blood matted, long silver hair fell out of the envelope and onto his fingers. Crimson eyes blazed as he gripped it tightly, and went to his room. With a touch of Sun for preservation, Xanxus threaded the silver hairs to intertwine with his feathers and stared at himself in the mirror. Then, he went out and burned everything to the ground as he raged over the loss of his Rain, right hand, and (though he had never admitted it) best friend.

* * *

After an hour had passed with the two Varia sitting in silence, Dino slipped back into the room cautiously. "I didn't hear any explosions. Is that a good sign?" Squalo rolled his eyes and Xanxus huffed as the blonde smiled cheerfully, returning to his seat in the room. "So, the plan is that Xanxus' brothers will back down from Vongola don because the Sky of their Sky is an heir and thus outranks them?"

Xanxus nodded in agreement, pulling out another bottle of alcohol (Scotch this time) to split between the three as they talked. (Dino politely ignored the bottles of rum and whiskey kicked under the couch.)

"Besides that, the Brat Boss is way more powerful than them, and Flame strength rules in the Vongola. Especially if we can assume that Tsunayoshi is born with all his memories and half of Xanxus' Flames."

The two Skies stared at the Rain in slowly dawning realization. (Well, Xanxus was more of a glare, but Squalo knew the difference.)

"VOOIIII! Shitty Boss, really? I expected it of the damn horse -"

"Hey!"

"- but I thought you would have better sense." Xanxus tsked and threw a pen at Squalo, smirking as the silverette dodged too late and it bounced off the loud-mouth's head. After all, there was a reason Squalo was Strategic Commander, and they all knew it. "Since Bossu is currently half Wrath and half Transcendent, there are two possibilities when Brat Boss is born. Either the Transcendent Flames return to him and Bossu returns to being full Wrath, or Tsunayoshi is born half and half. Knowing the Vongola…"

"Haha, I see. Well, we know which of the two options it will be then." Dino grinned at them, all bright lights and sharp edges. Squalo snickered and Xanxus just smirked. "Once my otouto bonds with someone, he'll never let them go. That being said… do you think he will automatically harmonize with his Guardians?"

The three fell silent and spared a moment to contemplate the horror of a tiny Hibari or Mukuro with full access to Flames and fifty some years of memories.

"I could feel Bossu, but it wasn't until he reached out to me with his Flames while nearby that my memories returned. Though the Brat Boss' Flames are stronger - sorry, Bossu - and knowing him, the first thing he'll do is pull on his newly restored bonds as hard as he can, and then the rest."

Dino groaned as he face-planted into the table - on purpose, for once. "Mini-Kyoya is going to find me I just know it." Squalo prompted Dino to continue by kicking the blonde in the side. "I owed him three matches when I left on my last mission. And considering the last thing I remember is screaming and Cloud Flames…."

Xanxus' rumbling laughter filled the room as Dino whined in protest. "You're so dead, Bronco." Squalo snickered at his oldest friend's mutterings, and the three settled into easy camaraderie as they continued planning.

None of them put a name to what they were planning but it lurked in the back of their minds all the same. They would rule the world, or it would turn to ash before them.

"...I have Hyper Intuition."

"SHITTY BOSS! VOOIIIII! Dammit, you're doing that on purpose! Stop making me choke on my drinks, I swear-!"

"Pfft. Hahaha, nice, Squalo."

"SHUT IT, PONY."

* * *

Xanxus smirked as Squalo walked up to him, a new (familiar) sword on his back. The day was bright and dry, and a cold wind swirled through the yards, chasing at the heels of students as they rushed inside to the warmth. The black haired Wrath is spread out on the roof, jacket serving as a pillow as he stares up at the blue sky.

"Hey, Bossu! Guess who's back as the new Sword Emperor!" Squalo smirked and waves his sword around flashily, while Xanxus merely huffed and rolled his eyes. Honestly, if Tyr had managed to somehow defeat his Rain, Xanxus would have had to kill someone to deal with the absurdity. A lot of someones.

"Do you have two hands this time, then?" Xanxus glared at the Rain as the usually loud swordsman fell silent. "...You cut it off yourself again, didn't you."

"It's symbolic!"

"Dammit, trash."

* * *

"Hey, little brother." Xanxus blinked as he looked up, seeing his three brothers entering the room. The mixed Sky stood as he closed his book, setting it next to the stacks of paperwork he had to finish before he could take official control of the Varia.

"So, you're moving out, huh?" Blazing eyes glanced over them searchingly as Xanxus nodded, taking note of Federico's fidgeting, Massimo's pale color, and the bags under Enrico's eyes from stress and lack of sleep.

"Was it us? Did we chase you out?" Xanxus frowned in confusion as Federico started to blabber, unmindful of Massimo trying to shush the youngest and the tired, defeated slump of Enrico's shoulders. "We've never thought less of you for being adopted, you know? And, and, we'll train even harder, and Enrico is the best fighter in all of the Vongola - besides you, of course - and I know I'm not top twenty yet but I  _will_  be, and-"

"Enough," Xanxus grumbled out, and his older brother froze. Internally, the Wrath Sky sighed before speaking. He should have expected this, really. The Younger brother or not, he had never acted it. He had over sixty years on even Enrico, and though they didn't realize it, Xanxus had been the eldest brother in their relationship all this time. On top of that, he was officially their Sky with all it entails. Between the recovery of Dino and Squalo's memories and the issues with taking over the Varia, it had been months since he spent any real time with them.

"It's nothing to do with you. I'm just expanding. You're my brothers. Stop being stupid trash and come here," Xanxus stood, taller than even Enrico despite the age difference, and sighed out loud this time as he was bombarded by hugging teenagers and men.

Federico elbowed Massimo to get more room, and Massimo aimed to kick Federico's shin only to miss and hit Enrico instead. From there, it devolved into a full out brawl until they became a dogpile of scrambling limbs on the floor, and Xanxus couldn't help but join in the laughter as he rolled around on the floor, easily pinning Enrico and flipping Federico over his shoulder to crash into Massimo.

Damn, he had missed his brothers.

* * *

"Xanxus, you've grown so much."

"So have you, Mum."

Xanxus slipped into the informal speech of his once-childhood as sharp eyes softened. Purple-brown eyes looked up at him warmly, their gaze clear and sharp. Between Xanxus' dosing of harmony factor and Vongola suns, the insanity that threatened his mother has been taken care of. The once civilian Cloud had blossomed in the mafia, becoming infamous not just as the mother and Cloud of the Wrath Sky assassin, but as a named hitwoman in her own right - the Clawed Adder. With knives and poison, Xanxus' mother had made her mark in the mafia world.

Xanxus couldn't be prouder.

"It's time for me to find the others." The Cloud nodded at his words, understanding perfectly. It was only natural for her son to gather all his Guardians at age eighteen. Besides, she did so delight in having Dino and Squalo over for tea, especially when her honorary nephews visited as well. All of Xanxus' bonded were so adorable and hilariously awkward in her presence.

A dainty hand pushed back dark purple, once-brown hair before she spoke. "Go have fun then, son. And may anyone who stands in your way fall on their own sword before you so you can laugh at their weakness." Xanxus huffed amusedly and wrapped his arms around the woman who had raised and sheltered him before stepping away, bright Flames licking at his ankles in anticipation. (It had been so, so long.)

"I'll bring them to see you, don't worry. I think you'll like them. They're even weirder than the rest of us."

His mother's tinkling laughter and steady beat of purple Flames followed the (not) young Vongola as Xanxus exited the room to collect the rest of his own.

* * *

Lussuria was leaning against a courtyard wall, holding a bandage in place with his teeth as he tied it tightly to stop the bleeding. Sunglasses were perched crookedly on the bridge of his nose, but the Sun didn't have any hands free to fix them, or time to spare. If any of the upper ups caught him even bandaging his wounds, the consequences would be… undesirable.

The sound of crunching grass underneath boots came from right behind him, and Lussuria hissed in pain as he hurriedly hid the roll of bandages beneath him. How could someone get so close? He was an assassin and had been focused just in case someone was coming. That shouldn't be possible!

"We've talked about this, trash."

Orange Flames surged throughout the open yard, and Lussuria's Sun Flames leaped forward on instinct. The firestorm flared, brighter, brighter, and brighter until it outshone even the sun that hung heavy in the sky until it disappeared in seconds.

Xanxus looked down at the eccentric man below him, and in turn, the green-haired assassin tipped back until the sunglasses slid down his nose and their eyes met. "Boss!" The younger man beamed brightly, jumping to his feet easily as yellow Flames washed over him.

The two fell into step easily as they left the courtyard, and whispers followed in their wake as low-tier Varia members scrambled to get out of the way as the two Flame monsters made their way to meet their Rain.

"...Are you going to change your hairstyle again?"

"Of course, boss~ I miss my lovely red mohawk!"

"Dammit, Luss-nee, you looked like a rooster,"

"Well, I am the sun, and you know how the saying goes - the rooster crows as the sun rises."

"..."

"..."

"You're horrible."

"Ehehehe, I know. But you love me anyway."

"Hn."

Lussuria's grin widened as a smirk made its way across Xanxus' face. This time, he'd be stronger. (He already was.) Nothing would steal the light from the sky - he'd burn anyone who said otherwise.

* * *

Xanxus left Lussuria with Squalo to be debriefed while he went to fetch Levi. Hopefully this time, the Lightning wouldn't be in the process of killing himself while trying to figure out a new technique. (It happened damn near every week. Shitty obsessive Lightnings.)

With a Flare of Sky flames, polished black boots made their way towards the answering crackle of Lightning. Why was Levi always in the forest or some other out of the way place when Xanxus needs to find him?

A burst of orange and pistols activated, propelling the Varia Boss into the air and following the faint sense of green and smell of burnt ozone that Levi gave off. Xanxus frowned and dropped into the trees as more Flame signatures registered around the familiar Lightning.

Leaping from branch to branch, Xanxus silently wove his way towards the gathering. It was pathetically easy to hide among the leaves and watch the scene unfolding before him.

"You are still unworthy of being Varia. You, Levi-A-Than, are not yet Quality." A senior member of the Lightning division is speaking, and others are gathered with him in military formation. Levi, meanwhile, stood and glared silently at them.

"You must do everything and anything that we ask of you, understand?"

"..."

"You are an orphan. You are not Famiglia. As such, you must surrender everything for the sake of the Famiglia."

"..."

Xanxus scowled as the strange scene continued, and the crackling Lightning around the familiar man dimmed and faded with each admonishment and restriction. A tendril of Wrath-Transcendent Sky reached out and suddenly exploded throughout the region as it makes contact with Lightning. Green and orange flared, then disappeared. The other assassins lowered their arms from where they were shielding their eye and stared at the man now standing tall and ferocious before them.

"How dare you try to define Quality! Only the Boss can declare that!" Levi-A-Than proceeded to teach the foolish scum a lesson they would have never forgotten if they had survived it. Xanxus shook his head fondly and amused himself by picking off the ones that tried to flee by making finger guns and shooting compressed Wrath Flames from his fingertips.

"Boss…" Dual-colored eyes snapped to the Lightning as the title was choked out. The Lightning was still in the clearing, a light sheen of tears over his eyes. "I failed you." Xanxus sighed and turned around, marching back through the forest. As soon as he could pass over the dramatic Lightning to Squalo, the better.

He paused. Levi-A-Than was not following.

A sigh, and, "What are you waiting for, trash? Go to Squalo for debriefing."

"Boss!" the happy shout echoed through the forest as Levi lumbered after him, and Xanxus found that Levi was far less annoying in his memories. (That was fine, though. He was Xanxus di Vongola, and Xanxus di Varia, and Xanxus di Cielo. He could never settle for an echo of the past.)

* * *

After a brief discussion, the Varia decided to go after Mammon, not Belphegor, next. If the previous timeline was to be believed, then the Storm was still with his family - wherever they were. So, they marked down the date of the mission where they first found Belphegor and moved on.

It is not difficult to set up a meeting with the Mist Arcobaleno - everyone knew the Varia and Vongola are the richest organizations in the mafia (perhaps with the exception of the CEDEF and Vendice, but no one really knows). With Xanxus as a top member of both, Mammon was all too willing to set an absurdly high rate and charge per second for a meeting.

As soon as he walked in, Xanxus' Flames surged and wrapped around responding Indigo before even a second can past. Mammon stilled, before floating up to Xanxus and settling on his shoulder, patting the younger man's spiky hair as he huffed in annoyance.

"Get the Arcobaleno cure sooner, and I'll waive the consultation fee."

Xanxus just rolled his eyes and exited the room, the Mist's possessions packing themselves and floating along in a suitcase behind them. The limo door swung open easily as the two settled in, Mammon drifting over to a specially made seat that put them on eye-level with the others.

"Shark-trash is already working on it. Talbot's agreed, and the Vendice are almost convinced. For some reason, they seem to like him."

Mammon perked up at that, always interested in a new way to extort people and possibly make money. "Why is that?"

"Some shit about parallel worlds and good deals. Hell if I know."

* * *

Xanxus was almost nineteen, and his Flames were shifting incessantly beneath his skin with the need for his Storm. His Wrath Flames sang songs of war and destruction that could not be completed without the Bloody Prince, and the Transcendent Flames thrummed discordantly without the full set of Guardians by his side.

Fran, they still had to wait for - the young boy had some sort of three-way Mist bond with the Brat's Mists, and Xanxus knew when not to push with the unexplained powers of Flames. Beyond that, the boy would only be a toddler at this point, and no thank you. The Varia were not a babysitting service for a damn good reason. (Many damn good reasons, actually.)

"Bossu. Time to go - let's not keep the Prince waiting." Xanxus smirked at his Rain and followed the silverette out the door towards their private jet.

Halfway through the mission, and a sudden surge of rage-fueled Wrath Flames disintegrated the nearby opponents.

"He's not here." The other Varia members stilled. "Wherever he is - his Flames are weak. There are still traces here. We missed him."

* * *

The complex was bathed in blood and scorch marks. Crumbling plaster dropped down to float on puddles of crimson, and pieces of broken walls and bodies made islands in the red sea.

"Where is he?"

Xanxus' eyes were sharp and blazing, the pistols pointed straight at the forehead of the smuggling ring's boss. Even without the guns, Xanxus' presence alone would be enough. Everyone knew the tales of the Wrath Sky, who killed mercilessly and the ones he left alive were so scarred mentally and physically that they'd be better off dead.

"W-Who? I don't understand! What do you want? I'll give you anything!"

 _'Truth.'_  Tsunayoshi's Flames purred inside him, and Xanxus didn't even notice the surprise of his Guardians as he slipped into Hyper Dying Will mode for the first time. The burnt orange of Wrath Flames gleamed from where it blazed on his head, while the pure orange of Transcendent Flames flickered around his hands where they were wrapped tightly around the handles of his guns.

"Belphegor. The Bloody Prince. Brother of Prince Rasiel. Blonde, Cheshire smile, crown, bloodlust, beserker, Storm."

Xanxus didn't need Hyper Intuition or a street rat's wit to see recognition, realization, and fear dawn on the scum's face.

"I-I don't know anything! He's not here!" The scum was crying now, bloodshot eyes and crystal tears as he frantically squirmed in Xanxus' hold, shoes scuffing uselessly against polished, bloody tile.

 _'Anything? Liar.'_  Xanxus pressed his finger against the trigger.

"W-Wait! I don't know anything, not really, but I have an idea!"

 _'Truth.'_  He pulled the pistol away from the man's head.

"We did have him, for a couple days. He was completely drugged up and covered with Flame suppressants. Then, some rich guys came back with the kid's brother and bought him. That's all I know! Promise! Please, please let me go!"

 _'Almost.'_  Xanxus snarled.

"U-Um! A name! I know one of their names - the one that officially bought him! Piero! Piero Romano! Please! Please let me go!"

 _'Truth. Finished.'_ Xanxus waited a moment to see if his Intuition would pick up any more clues, and nodded decisively when it remained silent.

Gesturing to the other hostages, Xanxus growled out a single command. "Kill them."

"Wait, no, ple-!"

Xanxus glanced down dispassionately at the broken body whose blood was staining his boots. "Scum…"

"Bossu." The Sky looked up at his Rain, feeling the swirling rage and guilt brewing inside himself.  _What did I miss? Where did I go wrong? Where? Where?! WHERE IS MY STORM?_  A pebble flicked him on the forehead, and Xanxus tilted his head to avoid the second one Squalo threw. "Let's go get our Prince." Xanxus nodded and followed his second in command out.

At the edge of the complex, without looking back, without pausing, Xanxus flared his Wrath Flames until they licked the sky itself. The Flames spread easily and, within minutes, there was nothing left but a thick layer of ash upon the ground.

The Wrath Sky had judged another Famiglia and found them unworthy. There was no place for scum in Xanxus' world.

* * *

When they returned to the mansion, Dino Chiavarone was waiting for them with a mildly interested Reborn on his shoulder. Within Xanxus, Tsunayoshi's Flames surged on their own, exploding outward and intertwining with the Arcobaleno Sun before the hitman could even move.

Reborn stilled for less than a second before taking in his surroundings evenly, cataloging the presence of those he knew to be dead. "Time travel?"

Squalo nodded. "I'll debrief you while the others discuss Bossu's missing Storm." Reborn nodded and jumped to land on the silverette's head. With an angry growl and muttered "Voi!," the swordsman shifted the smirking hitman to his shoulder and made his way inside.

Dino turned back to the others. "That name you sent me? I have an address."

Bloodlust soaked the air.

* * *

Xanxus stood in the doorway of the stone cell, taking note of the Flame suppressants covering the entrance and walls of the room. They disintegrated with a wave of his hand and the bite of his Flame. Across the room, a pale form was chained to the wall, shirtless so that the green, yellow, and purple bruises and sluggishly bleeding cuts were that much more obvious.

A head weakly lifted, and for the first time, Xanxus saw the other's face. Bloodshot eyes glared at him through a deranged haze of madness and pain. "Ushishishi… here to finish off the prince?"

Xanxus stalked forward and broke the shackles in one swift pull. He looked down at the child - Dio, Belphegor was a child, he was hurt, they had  _hurt his Storm_  - and ignored the almost -  _almost_  - fearful widening of the blonde's eyes.

"No. You're my Prince, and I'm your King. The Varia has been waiting for you."

Flames roared throughout the room and Xanxus didn't hesitate to lift the fragile body as strong fingers clasped onto his shirt. "My Sky, my Sky, I'm bleeding, they made me  _bleed_." Unsure and uncaring of whether his Storm was referring to his current imprisonment or past death, Xanxus stayed still as he kept the youngest Varia member pressed tightly to him, watching the destruction their raging Flames caused. The shrieks of terror and agonizing screams made bloodthirsty grins curl around both faces, and the rest of the Varia filled in around them to watch the now self-sustaining destruction.

"...This time, I'll make  _them_  bleed."

"I know. You're my Storm, after all."

* * *

Xanxus' Guardians were gathered, and the Arcobaleno had all been exposed long enough to Tsunayoshi's Flames to remember. Squalo had, somehow, convinced the Vendice, and the Varia had completely skipped over getting permission from Kawahira - they didn't need anyone's permission, curse you very much, and could handle the transfer of pacifiers just fine on their own.

Thanks to a Verde with decades more of experience, a further cure had been made that would allow them to continue aging normally in one form and already be their pre-curse age in another. Both would grow at the same rate, and the Flame users could change forms at will. No one but those involved knew the Arcobaleno were free, and they intended to keep it that way.

* * *

Xanxus watched as his father and the CEDEF advisor walked into the quaint, well-kept home of Sawada Nana. A young boy walked over to him on strangely steady legs and tugged on the Wrath's pants. Dual colored eyes met dual colored eyes, and Sawada Tsunayoshi and Xanxus di Varia shared a matching grin filled with promises.

"Play ball with us, Xanxus-nii?" Six familiar faces popped up from the bushes, while three girls entered the yard with a skip in their step and a deceptively kind grin.

"We're gonna do a lot more than that, Boss Brat. You've kept me waiting a long time."

The Varia and Arcobaleno stepped forward with matching eager (bloodthirsty) expressions, and those of the Future That Wasn't felt their Flames thrum in perfect harmony. Back in Italy, Xanxus' Cloud and brothers felt a surge in Flames and traded secretive smiles, while a green haired boy in France woke from dreams of monsters and Family.

The world was theirs, it just didn't know it yet.

* * *

  _"The respected, admired, worshiped, adored_

_The Flame of Rage, the anger gunshot, the hatred ambition_

_I will be the true ruler_

_The despair, the trembling, the terror, the resolution_

_The flame hammer that is in different status with all of you_

_The weaklings are better to worship me_

_I'll allow everyone to follow me_

_My high pride"_

-The Proud Rage (Xanxus' character song [Varia Songs soundtrack])

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original plot for this was completely derailed by Squalo and Dino. Also, headcanons. Oops. Gokudera is next after this, and then Tsuna. Any characters that y'all want to see?
> 
> 5 Reviews needed before I'll update.
> 
> Needed number of total reviews: 56


	7. NOTICE - NEW CHAPTER IN AS WORLDS SPIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you want to know what happened to Byakuran after chapter four? It's written, go find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciaossu.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10919550/chapters/29197101

Hello, my lovely readers! So this isn't quite an actual chapter - DON'T CLOSE THE PAGE. I know half of you were about to. For those of you who don't know, there is a spinoff of this story called As World Spin. A new chapter has been added. I know you all want to read it - **don't you want to know what happened to Byakuran?**   Now I have your attention, don't I? Anyway, I'll delete this notice in a week or so. Just wanted to let you guys know that the new ASW chapter - Past the Horizon - is up and continues where chapter four left off. Just click the link at the top of the page and enjoy! See you all next time.  Happy Thanksgiving!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10919550/chapters/29197101
> 
> Look how many links I've offered you. You now have no excuse not to read it. I promise you'll like it and hopefully won't want to strangle me this time. Ciao!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As Worlds Spin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919550) by [RyuuSiren7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuSiren7/pseuds/RyuuSiren7)




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